Scorched Earth Policy
by Terra3
Summary: A sequel to Caitlyn's Lessons for Life. It's ten years later. Aidan Malfoy is now running the Muggleborn Manor. His family has kidnapped him and the residents of the Manor and only Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy can save them all. Warning: Suicide and gore
1. Prologue

Scorched Earth Policy

By Terra

Disclaimer: I have reached a new low. I am writing a fic about a fic so I don't even own the original characters. Harry Potter related characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Aidan and Chloe belong to Caitlyn and I'm just borrowing her universe for a second. I promise to return it mostly intact. The Muggle-borns are my invention. Enjoy.

Prologue

"I think not a single peace-loving state could decline a peace treaty with a neighboring state even though the latter was headed by such fiends and cannibals as Hitler and Ribbentrop…"-Joseph Stalin, to the Soviet People, in his speech commanding them to begin "scorched earth" policy, on July 3, 1941.

*** ***

Summer was in full bloom for both the Wizarding World and Muggle World. Harry Potter did not know what to expect from the former residence of his now-incarcerated enemy but there was only one way to find out. He Apparated on to the front lawn of the site of his adopted daughter's torture.

It had been 3 years since he had last set foot on the property. At the time, he had been overcome with fury and worry over his daughter's state since Draco Malfoy had taken her. There, she had been trapped in a dungeon and only by the good grace of sympathetic House Elves was she fed. Draco Malfoy had planned to kill her. Harry had eventually found her at the bottom of a long staircase, knocked unconscious because Draco thrown her down there after Harry and his friends had arrived. At his trial, Draco had pleaded insanity but the judge had not been merciful. Draco was sent to Raveneux Mental Institution, which the judge called "jail with padded walls", to be in solitary confinement until he gave up the "I am Lord Voldemort" business and was no longer a threat to society. In addition, the Malfoy property was given to Harry Potter; he had turned it into a Muggle-born Wizarding home where every care would be provided, with the remaining Malfoys, Pansy and Aidan, as servants.

This is why he had returned to the property. He wanted to see Aidan Malfoy. Last August, Harry had received a letter from one of the residents detailing life at the Manor. In it, the girl, named Lucinda, had discussed Aidan's transformation from reclusive ghost-like figure to almost being one of them. Harry, of course, was curious about the transformation and wanted to see the results for himself. Had the Manor changed the son of Draco "I Am Lord Voldemort" Malfoy?

He walked up the lawn to the large doors of the manor itself and found the door unlocked. He entered the front hall and noticed his first difference. The air in the hall was different. When he had first come here, the air had a dead quality. The manor seemed cold and devoid of life. Now, the air was warm with scent of passing bodies even though the hall was empty. He could hear laughter floating in from another room and tapping feet ran through a hidden corridor. It was a completely different hall that was rich with memories and life.

"Is young man requiring something?" A tiny voice asked. Harry turned his attention away from the air of the hall to a small house-elf.

"Yes," he answered, "is Mistress Malfoy and Master Malfoy available?"

"Mistress Malfoy is busy. Master Malfoy is in other room. Is Master needing one?"

"Yes, I wish to speak to both of them but I am willing to speak to just Master Malfoy."

"Who is calling?"

"Mister Potter wishes to speak to him."

"He is back soon. Wait here." The elf trotted off to find the elusive Aidan. Harry found himself a bench in the hall (which had not been there before) to sit on while he waited. After a few minutes, two teenagers came speeding into the hall, laughing. A young girl ran after them, obviously in fury.

"That was none of your business, Peter!" The girl fumed. 

The taller of the boys answered, "Oh, but you shouldn't have written it in such a public place!"

The shorter boy took a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and read in a falsetto voice, " 'Oh, Roger, I sure that your skills will improve over the summer. You have my absolute confidence that you'll be captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team next year. Paul Evermore doesn't stand a chance against your skills!' Oh, Roger!"

"Stop that! Give it back!" The girl screamed.

"Why don't you give the letter back?" Harry asked, trying not to laugh. The three teens jumped at the new voice and all of them blushed at looking like idiots in front of someone. The shorter boy returned the note to the girl, who immediately pocketed it. 

"Say," the girl said, "don't we know you?"

"Yeah," the taller boy said, "I've seen him somewhere too."

"Are you Oliver Wood? The Quidditch star?" The shorter boy asked. Harry shook his head.

"Gee, not Wood? Um... are you the Minister? Percy Whats-his-face?" 

Harry chuckled, "No, but I know him. It's Weasley, by the way."

The girl's eyes opened wide and she asked, "You're... not a reporter, are you?"

"You stupid reporters!" The taller boy exclaimed then turned to the smaller boy, "Quick, run to Aidan and warn him."

Harry waved his hands to placate them. "Don't worry, I'm not a reporter. I'm Harry Potter, I own this place."

The three slapped themselves in the forehead. "Right. Harry Potter, that guy," the girl said.

The shorter boy asked, "Uh... what did you do again?"

The taller boy tore at his hair, yelling, "Oh! Oh! I know this one! Give me a minute!"

"It stinks being a Muggle-born at times like this," the girl sighed, "I bet every Wizard we know would know what you did in an instant, Mr. Potter."

"Don't worry," Harry said, "it's nice being somewhere everyone doesn't know you."

"He defeated that guy no one can name!" the taller boy finally shouted, jumping up and down.

"Calm down, Sean," the girl said, "you look like an idiot." The girl turned to Harry and asked, "But why are you here?"

"I came to talk to Aidan and his mother about running this place. Do you like it here?" Harry asked.

They nodded. The boy named Sean said, "It's great. Aidan really throws his heart into running the place."

"It's nice being among like-minded people," the girl replied.

"And not worrying about scaring the Muggle neighbors," the shorter boy, most likely Peter, answered. 

"That's good. What does Aidan's mother do?"

The group was silent and found other things to look at. The boy shuffled their feet and the girl fiddled with the cuff of her shorts.

Finally, Peter spoke up, "Uh... I was just thinking that we probably shouldn't interfere with you and Aidan as he shows you around so we best be leaving."

The girl nervously nodded and added, "I mean, I have pounds of homework to do. It was nice meeting you, Mister Potter."

"Yeah, nice seeing you," Sean said as he walked out of the room. Peter also said goodbye and left. The girl turned to go but before she exited the hall, she turned around and said, "Mister Potter, please don't judge Aidan based on his mother. He's nothing like her. He's a good kid after all." With that, she turned away and left the hall.

Harry sat in shock and looked at the floor. Obviously, Pansy had not converted her behavior like her son had. Now he was very interested in finding out how the Malfoy family was faring in their new environment.

"You-you came to-to speak to me?" A tiny voice squeaked in fear. Harry's head snapped up at the voice. A young, blond-haired boy stepped back at the reaction, eyes wide. At first, Harry was confused about the boy's reaction but then it hit him. Aidan was terrified. He shouldn't be surprised; after all, it had been Harry Potter that had put his father away. 

Harry stood up and took a better look at his host. Aidan West Malfoy could have not been older than eight years old and was practically a clone of his father. The hair, complexion, and silver colour of the eyes were the same but while Draco's eyes never held anything but either smugness or cruelty; Aidan's was filled with fear and emotional pain. Harry could slightly see Aidan's body trembling. Could he really invoke such fear in one boy?

Harry smiled and held out his hand, saying, "Hello, are you Aidan Malfoy?" The question was rather redundant. Who else could the boy be?

"I am," Aidan replied, apprehensively shaking Harry's hand.

"Do you know who I am?"

"I do," Aidan whispered, his eyes flickering to the scar partially covered by Harry's bangs. "Am I in some sort of trouble?" He looked like a man about to be sentenced to Azkaban.

"No, of course not," Harry replied. Aidan stopped trembling but his eyes remained fearful. It's a start, Harry thought. He continued, answering Aidan's silent question, "I've come to see what you two have done with this place. I've heard many good things about the Manor."

"Do you want a tour?" Aidan blurted out then immediately looked downward in embarrassment.

"Yes, I would like that, Aidan," Harry answered. Aidan's eyes lost some of its fearfulness.

"Well, the best place to start would be the bedrooms of the Muggle-borns here," Aidan mumbled to himself. "It's right upstairs, Mr. Potter." Aidan gestured to the sweeping marble staircase leading upstairs. Aidan started up the stairs first and Harry followed. 

Upstairs, the hall had new lanterns along the walls to provide light during the night and sunlight streamed in from the large windows with a railing in front of them. The walls were wooden and doors were evenly spaced apart on the wall without the windows. Aidan turned right at the top of the stairs. "We are heading towards the Female Wing. Here, all the girls' rooms and bathrooms are located. If we had turned left, we would have entered the Male Wing with the boys' rooms and bathrooms." Harry nodded to show Aidan he understood. 

All the doors were marked with a colored circle. Most were blue but a few black dots were present on the doors. 

"Aidan, what do the circles mean?" Harry asked, stopping at a door with a black circle. Aidan appeared very ashamed at being asked such a question.

"Well, as you know, the Malfoy family is not known for its... openness to outsiders. The early Malfoys feared robbers and enemies entering the house," Aidan explained, "to discourage such people, some rooms were booby-trapped. Also, because of the Malfoy..." Aidan played with his collar as he struggled for words, "fascination with torture devices, many rooms are filled with dangerous objects that people should really avoid. When the Manor became a haven for Muggle-borns, I remembered my father talking about such rooms. I also recalled an instance where I found a room that was booby-trapped and barely came out alive." He paused to let Harry digest the information and then continued, "A month before the students returned from Hogwarts this summer, I went through the entire house and marked every room that was dangerous with a black circle and every room that was safe with a blue circle to prevent accidents."

"How... considerate of you. Did your mother help you with this?" Harry asked, absolutely aghast that Aidan attempted to complete such a task.

Aidan's eyes clouded as he turned away from the door and continued down the hall. "Anyway, the rooms should be close by. Please, follow me, Mr. Potter."

Harry followed the silent Aidan down the hall. Someone avoided my question about Pansy again, he thought, furious. Where was that damn woman anyway?

"Here it is, Mr. Potter, the first of the girls' bedrooms," Aidan presented the room with a wave of his hand. Aidan knocked on the blue-dotted door.

"Who is it?" A young girl's voice called out.

"Aidan. Can I come in?"

"What for?"

"Mr. Potter wants to see the room."

There was a pause, then, "Mr. WHO?"

"Potter, as in Harry Potter."

"Who's that?"

"He owns the place," Aidan called back, silently asking Harry to forgive the mystery girl for her questions.

"Sure. Whatever. Let him in." Aidan opened the door and indicated that Harry step inside. The room had six beds, three by the left and right walls, with pale wooden desks separating the beds. Above the beds were signs reading the names of the young girls who probably occupied the room. A girl with short blonde hair sat at the farthest desk, scribbling furiously with her quill. Beyond the girl, a simple paned window let in light. Above his head, a chandelier hung on a golden chain. Under his feet, the floor was carpeted with a muted reddish brown plush carpet. The bed covers were varied colours.

The girl finally turned her attention away from her homework and greeted Aidan with a smile, "Hey, Aidan, how are you?"

"Fine. This is Sara Limish. She's entering third year," Aidan said as a form of introduction.

"Hufflepuff," Sara explained. She regarded the room. "Nice room, huh, Mr. Potter?"

"It is. Did you decorate the room yourself, Aidan?"

"Yes. But the girls really have the final say. The bedcovers, for example," Aidan said, sitting on the closest bed, "are the girls' favorite colors. I ask for their favorite color on the application and find bedcovers in that color for when they arrive. The boys' rooms are the same way."

"How many girls' are there? Only six?"

Aidan shook his head. "No, an even twelve. The other room is also occupied."

"And the boys?"

"Ten boys total."

Harry paced around the room. "So, are the girls and boys placed in their rooms by year?"

"No. My policy is really just the free bed gets the newest person. The rooms have people from mixed years and Hogwarts Houses."

"Interesting."

"Would you like to see the bathrooms?" Aidan asked. Sara giggled lightly. Aidan looked at her, seemingly hurt.

"Yes, that would be nice, Aidan," Harry answered, knowing that Aidan was supposed to show him every aspect of the Manor, even if Sara didn't. 

The tour continued in a similar fashion, with Harry asking Aidan to explain this or that and Aidan politely answering him. Over time, Aidan appeared to relax and even cracked a smile at intervals.

Pansy, Harry did not fail to notice, was still absent during the tour. Whenever he would ask, Aidan would reply, "Busy."

"Busy with what?"

"I don't know. But she's busy."

As they headed towards the dining hall, two teenaged boys came speeding down the hall, armed with broomsticks. One was thin and had curly brown hair while a shorter and stockier blond stomped behind him.

"Hey, Aidan," the brown-haired boy called, "want to play Quidditch?"

The stockier boy grabbed the leading boy's arm to prevent him from crashing into Aidan and Harry. When the thin boy gave his friend an inquiring look, he replied, "Can't you see he's doing something?"

"Oh," the restrained boy replied, "Sorry, Aidan. You can play later, I guess."

"It's alright," Harry said, "I actually was about to suggest that I do a little search on my own." And look for that damned Pansy, he added silently.

Aidan looked torn. "No, I'll show you around. It's okay."

"No, go on. I'm fine," Harry said, trying to placate him. Aidan had a stern sense of duty, obviously.

"Look," the stockier boy said, relieved, "if the Great Harry Potter says you can go, then you should go."

"Who?" the thinner boy asked.

"If you had done your homework already, you would know," the stockier boy retorted.

"Aren't we smart?"

"No, just me."

Aidan smiled. "This is Eric Sevenik and Allen Therbold, both entering seventh year."

"It's nice to meet you both," Harry said. "Now, Aidan, you can go play with them."

Aidan wrung his hands. "Well, if you want me to..."

"I do. Go."

"Well, if you need anything at all, we'll be outside in the back. Don't hesitate. Don't forget about the marked doors either," Aidan reminded, looking very relieved that he no longer had to worry about Harry Potter's wrath.

"Come on, Aidan. Mr. Potter can take of himself," The thin Allen said.

The three boys walked off, rounding a corner on their way to the stairs leading outside. Harry listened as their voices drifted away.

"Can I be a Chaser?" Aidan's voice asked.

"Aidan, you've been that before." Eric's voice replied.

"How about Beater?"

"Aidan, you nearly killed yourself last time you were Beater. Maybe Keeper this time?"

"How about Seeker, Aidan? You've never been Seeker before. You'd be great!" Allen suggested, enthusiastically. 

Maybe it was because Aidan was farther away but to Harry, his voice seemed smaller when he answered, "No, I could never be Seeker. Never."

*** ***

"Mistress is busy."

Harry groaned. "I know. I want to see her anyway," he told the fifth House Elf he came across. The last four had skittered away when he mentioned Pansy, claiming, "Much work needed doing."

"But Mistress is busy. No point seeking her. She is busy."

"Busy where?"

"Some other place."

"Is she in the mansion or is she somewhere else?"

"She is in mansion. But busy. Busy in mansion."

He was getting fed up with this mind game. He was going to talk to Pansy even if it was the last thing he ever did. "I want to talk to Mistress Malfoy," Harry repeated slowly.

"Mistress is busy," the Elf replied, just as slow.

"I know she is busy. You've said that, everyone has said that. I don't care how busy she is," he told the House Elf, who was beginning to gnaw at his ear, "I need to speak with her. I need to speak to her now. I doubt that the Mistress will mind if I interrupt her work for a few moments." Actually, he had no doubt in his mind that Pansy would be very angry at being interrupted at whatever the hell she was doing wherever she was.

"Mistress will be angry. Mistress is always angry," the Elf murmured, gnawing on his ear.

"Please, take me to her. That's all I ask."

The House Elf looked up at him with his huge, tennis-shaped eyes and asked, "This very important?"

"Yes."

"Is that order?"

"If you want to believe it's an order, then it is."

The Elf sighed as if Harry was asking to be led off a cliff. "Follow."

The House Elf lead him through a maze of dark corridors and Harry feared that the Elf was leading him in a wild goose chase and did not intend to take him to Pansy. The corridors became darker and the air grew dead and cold as Life shrank back from the memories. This was obviously the wing where the Malfoys had lived, if one can call it living.

Down one hallway, there was one lonely light that had to be manually switched on. The air shivered with guilt and anger. It was like walking into a dementor's path. Even though the walls and floor were spotless, Harry felt like he was walking through grime and filth. Who knew what deeds were done, plots planned, or what murders were mused. 

There were six doors on each side, making twelve in all. Ten of the doors were completely unmarked. The last two, hidden in the back like the silent juvenile witness to a parent's murder, were marked. To his left, the door was marked with a blue dot. The door to his right had a huge black dot.

"Mistress is right door. Master is left door," the Elf explained, "Master comes to sleep and see Mistress. That all."

"And the Mistress?"

The House Elf was silent and resumed gnawing on its ear. Seeing that he was not going to get more out of the Elf, he replied, "Thank you for helping me find my way."

"There is work needed doing." With that, the Elf scampered off, leaving Harry behind. For a split second, Harry wanted to run after him, leave the corridor filled with spiritual grime. However, he stayed and turned to the left door. 

The left door was unlocked and creaked as he swung it open. It was obvious that Aidan did not visit this room much. The bed covers were shifted to one side, Aidan probably hadn't mastered the art of making the bed. He'll learn, Harry thought. Besides the bed, there was a little play desk that didn't look like it had been used much. There were no bookshelves. There were no sources of amusement, such as toys. There was a wardrobe, which Harry opened and saw rather ordinary clothes hung up. The bedside table held little: a lamp, a clock, tissues, and a comb. He nearly dismissed the box in the corner but it seemed so out of place that it warranted investigation.

The box was rather beat up and scratched. The hinges were rusted and the lock was broken. The lid was light and took no effort for Harry to lift. In the box, however, were books with a sheet of paper on top. These weren't any ordinary books, no, Harry had seen these before.

Every last book was a book of the Dark Arts, seven books in all. They weren't too dangerous as Dark Arts books went. The sheet of paper had been flipped to a blank side so Harry turned to the side with printing:

Aidan's Evaluation of the Dark Arts books

Funny how everything changes in one week. I got these books as an early Christmas present. By the end of the week, Father was gone.

For three years, I have not touched these books. They took everything else but they never bothered to check me. It's too late to turn them in now. Maybe it'll help me understand what Father went crazy for.

When I received the books, I remember, Father told me to write down what I thought of the books to prove I had read them. Why I'm doing that now, I have no clue. Maybe some sense of unfinished business that Father and I have.

The page continued with Aidan's evaluations of the books labeled accordingly. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as each review was filled with confusion and distaste. Aidan did not enjoy his required reading.

Making a mental note to remind Aidan that those books really needed to be put in proper hands, Harry put the books back in the box and left the room.

Now only having the black marked door in front of him, Harry took a deep breath. Let her be busy with paperwork, he prayed, let her be doing something productive.

The doorknob was clammy and covered in sweat. Maybe Aidan did not enjoy his visits? Harry joked to himself. The door was locked but a simple "Alohomara" fixed that problem. Harry opened the door slowly, the hinges whining. Harry winced. 

The room was an improvement over Aidan's room with the fact that it had more furniture in it. The room appeared to have once been beautiful but time had taken its toll. The air had a foul stench. The curtains, which completely covered the windows, and the bedclothes, which both appeared to have been once white, were stained a tea color and torn in places. The mirror on the vanity was cracked as if a fist or an object had crashed into it. Cosmetics were scattered haphazardly all over the vanity table and a goo seemed to stain the once-beautiful surface. The carpet was stained with blood and human waste products, which most likely provided the smell. Nothing compared to the amazement Harry felt at the sheer number of full, half-full, and empty wine and liquor bottles. The bottles littered everywhere, alcohol also made its stains on the carpet. The smell of alcohol was sickening when added to the stench of blood, human waste, and obvious smell of someone who had not bathed in a while. 

Maybe Pansy was dead. No one could live like this and not notice or do something about it. 

A thick, slurred voice came from behind the curtains surrounding the bed. "Is that you, Aidan? What the hell do you want?"

Harry did not know how to respond. He just stood there, silent.

"I know you're out there!" The voice screamed, "Tell me what you want, you bastard, and leave me the hell alone!"

"You shouldn't call your son a bastard," Harry replied.

There was movement behind the curtain and suddenly, the completely intoxicated Pansy Parkinson Malfoy appeared at the corner of the bed. Pansy had lost weight and her skin had a slight yellow tinge. Her hair had become thin and it appeared that some had fallen out. She was shaking violently.

"You," she rasped, her unfocused eyes attempting to fix a steady glare at him, "You bastard! How dare you enter my house!"

"For your information, the law says that this is my house." Harry admitted silently that it was rather crass to point that out, but she was starting to tick him off.

"I don't care about your stupid, Mudblood-loving laws!"

"Look, I came here to inspect the care Aidan and you are providing and it's clear to me that Aidan is..."

"He's just like his father, that bastard! I hate him! I hate them both! I hope Aidan dies! I wish I had never given birth to him, that little bastard! I hope you die! I hope your daughter dies and rots in Hell! I hope everyone rots in Hell!" Pansy gripped the neck of an empty wine bottle at her end of the bed. "Go away! Get out!" She chucked the bottle at Harry's head. 

Thankful for his days as Seeker, Harry dodged and watched the bottle smash against the wall. Before Harry could reflect on that, Pansy threw another empty wine bottle at him, barely missing him. 

"Get out! Get out! Get out! Go to Hell, you bastard!" Pansy shrieked as she picked up another bottle and threw it at him. Not even pausing, she picked up a liquor bottle and threw that one at him. One after another, bottles went flying towards the former Gryffindor Seeker without stop.

It could have been ten minutes but it felt like an hour when the door slammed open and a bottle flew into the hall. 

"Mother, stop it!" Aidan cried, dodging another bottle.

"You bastard! You let him in! You let the Mudblood-loving bastard in!" Pansy, however, dropped the bottle that had been clutched in her hand.

"Mother, I didn't let him into your room. I had no idea he was here," Aidan said, calmly. "I'll make him go away. Would you like him to go away?"

"Of course, you stupid bastard! You stupid, Mudblood loving bastard child! You go away, too!" Pansy screamed. She continued to rant and rage as Aidan, emotionless, took Harry's startled hand, and led him outside.

Once outside the door, Aidan whispered, startled, "I'll get her quiet. Just wait for me in my father's study. Just get out of this wing, grab a House Elf and tell him to take you to Malfoy study." Aidan dropped Harry's hand and rushed into his mother's room, slamming the door behind him.

In a daze, Harry left the wing and quickly encountered the same House Elf from before, gnawing on his ear. Upon seeing Harry, he looked relieved. 

"Sir is safe. Master take care of Mistress now."

Harry, however, did not feel better at the thought of Aidan with his mother alone. "Will he be alright?"

"Master not dead before."

Finding no other alternative, Harry asked, "Can you show me the Malfoy study?"

The House Elf led him to a less dismal wing and showed him the blue-marked door labeled, "Draco's Study". The Elf scampered off, leaving Harry alone. 

Harry looked again at the sign. It is rather pointless, he thought, having it be Draco's Study when he no longer lives here. With a wave of his wand, he changed the letters to "Aidan's" and smiled. 

The study itself was rather ordinary. It wasn't covered in Dark Arts paraphernalia and the hunter green carpets weren't covered in blood. To his right were an empty fireplace and two long dark red velvet couches with a polished coffee table. In front of him was a large window, which let in most of the light. He looked out the window and saw the rest of the children resuming their Quidditch match without Aidan. On the window's left side was a tall bookcase, crammed with textbooks about grammar, mathematics, literature, history, Latin and French, along with various other novels for entertainment. After the bookcase was a large, polished wooden desk. It was lined with quills of all sizes and bottles of differently colored ink. On the desk were several pieces of loosely arranged papers. Most of the papers for business, financial records and the like, which Harry promptly set down again. However, mixed in were a few poems. Harry picked one up and it read: 

I remember the ivory keys under my little hands.

You crept in so very silently, so unlike yourself

And simply watched me practice one little song

About absolutely nothing important

I played with my first audience, just four years old,

You were so very quiet, so patient, unlike before.

It was not the piece I was assigned by my tutor,

I had simply found it under my seat

I played longer than I really had to with you watching.

You seemed so proud and so in awe, like never before.

As I reached the end, I simply could not stop then.

So I played the beginning again.

Gliding over to me, you sat down beside me, gently

And gave me a look I never seen in your eyes before.

My hands reached the end once more, I looked up.

The last time I saw your true smile.

"What are you looking at?" Aidan's voice asked from the door. Harry nearly jumped in surprise when he saw Aidan staring at him. Instead of following his first instincts and putting the poem down, he asked, "Did you write this poem?"

Blinking in surprise, Aidan stammered, "Yeah, I think so." 

"It's very good." 

"I wrote it a long time ago. It's pretty silly, really." Aidan walked over and gently took the poem out of Harry's hand and put it back on the desk. A flash of crimson graced his forehead.

"You're cut, Aidan," Harry said, taking out his wand, "Would you like me to mend it?"

"No," Aidan answered sharply, almost angry that he had been caught off guard, "It doesn't hurt much. I got the glass out already." Aidan still refused to look away from the desk and at Harry.

"It'll leave a scar," Harry replied, putting his hand on Aidan's slack shoulder. Aidan didn't react to the touch.

"Sometimes it's better to have a scar," Aidan said, "that's what my father always said." There was a small sniffle then Aidan amended, "He was being sarcastic, wasn't he?" Harry didn't respond. How old this little boy seemed to him. The way he spoke resembled a thirty year old, not someone younger than ten. As Harry continued to observe Aidan, however, he began to see the cracks. Aidan was not a thirty-year-old man, he was still very, very young.

"Would you like some tea, Mr. Potter?" Aidan suggested, his voice shaking. He turned back towards the door, still not looking at Harry. "The House Elves do a very good job at brewing it. Or maybe something colder?"

"Aidan..." Harry whispered, trying to provide some support to the young child.

"Or some food, perhaps? I'm sure there's something in the kitchen." Aidan was shaking visibly. It was like watching a house of cards that had been built up too high and was beginning to teeter. 

He walked towards the couch and continued to face the door. "Would you like to sit down, Mr. Potter?" Aidan gestured towards the farthest couch and sniffled as his face came into Harry's view. Harry walked towards him, not to sit down but to be in position when the top card on the house would tumble. Tears were forming in the young boy's eyes and his voice was weak and shaky but he tried to continue like he wasn't on the verge of collapse, that he was older than he was, that he was okay. "I've been so rude. How is everything? Is your wife well? I heard you had a child recently. Was it a boy or girl? How is it?" 

Aidan was gripping the back of the couch to remain standing. Harry felt powerless. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't reach out to hold him because the house of cards under the slightest of pressure would be blown apart. "Oh, and Chloe. How could I forget her? How is she? Is she doing well in school?" There was a pause and finally the tears came spilling out as Aidan choked out, "Does she still scream in her sleep?" The air molecules in the room toppled the house of cards.

The sobs of Aidan were terrible to witness. Curled on the floor, he wailed without words, his face in his hands. Harry, slowly, bent to his level and hugged the troubled child. Aidan cried and cried without pausing, as if he had no other choice, no recourse for his pain. After a time, Aidan slumped in Harry's rocking arms and, having no more tears, weakly moaned. Harry hummed softly as he had often done with Chloe when her night terrors became too much, when his simple presence wasn't enough. How frail Aidan seemed in his arms, how utter defenseless, how broken. A tiny voice in his head told him, you did this, you took his father away.

"Sorry," Harry whispered aloud.

"For what?" Aidan murmured, "You did nothing wrong." Aidan wriggled his way out of man's arms. "You were actually quite merciful to us. If you and my father had traded places, and you had kidnapped me, you would have died and Chloe would have been sent to the streets."

"I still took your father away," Harry replied then, as an afterthought, asked, "Are you alright now?"

Aidan stood up and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry you had to see that, that's all. You just startled her. Don't blame yourself," he sighed, "she was like that before you." He shrugged.

Harry rose as well and said, "Aidan, I actually came to speak to you." 

Aidan sat down and indicated that Harry should follow suit before replying, "About?" 

Harry was in utter shock of how quickly Aidan bounced back. He pretended like nothing had happened. "About you."

"About me? Why?"

"I received a letter, from Lucinda," Harry paused to see Aidan's reaction. Aidan nodded. "She described your care. But she also mentioned how you went from an aloof, distant person to being who you are now. What I'm wondering is," Harry asked, "why did you change?"

Aidan leaned back into the couch opposite Harry. He took a big breath. "I guess I should be honest. I really hated you at the beginning. You and your daughter had destroyed everything. You had taken my father away and no one would tell me why," Aidan frowned, "I understood what my father had done but I didn't understand what the problem was. Back then, I believed that killing Muggle-borns was no big deal and since he hadn't even killed her, I thought people were just being heartless."

"But you understand now, right?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Frankly, I'm ashamed of what I was before, how blind I was. It would take me awhile to figure it out. Anyway, there was nothing to be done but Father told me that he would come back someday and we'd punish the... sorry, the 'Mudblood-loving filth' together. It kept me going in the beginning. You must understand, I truly believed my father was unbeatable, that his way was the right way and everyone else was confused. I expected my father to return in a couple of days.

"But then summer rolled around and Father had not managed to bail himself out. I was completely disheartened. The awful Muggle-borns that I had been taught to hate were going to enter and live at my home. Mother was no help, she spent all her time in her room. I was left alone with all the wretched people, as I thought of them. What the letter said was true, I did my best to avoid the residents at all cost. All of them tried to get to know me and be friendly but all gave up except Lucinda. She never gave up, she always offered me that hand of friendship.

"I was still set in my ways. I believed that Father would come home any minute and rid the Manor of the 'vermin' the Ministry had let in. One day, in July, I was climbing one of the trees in the orchard in the back. I fell and broke my leg. I tried to drag myself back by myself but it hurt too much. I sat there, feeling very sorry for myself, when Lucinda came up to me. Apparently, she had been watching me climb the tree and had seen me fall. She told me that one of the other kids had already gone to arrange for an ambulance and then she carried me back to the Manor." He laughed, "I remember everyone fussing over me and I found it so odd. 'These are Muggle-borns,' I thought. 'Muggle-borns are supposed to be rude and inhuman.' 

"Then I went to hospital with Lucinda, since my mother didn't even come down, and had my bone mended. The mending took over three hours and they made me rest for two but when I came out, Lucinda was still sitting in the waiting room. She was so pleased to see me and told me how worried she had been. I had never imagined it before. I hadn't been friendly to her at all but she still cared about my welfare. When I returned home, everyone expressed their relief of my bones mending nicely. Everyone had really cared about a kid that barely spoke to them.

"After that, I couldn't hate them. I just couldn't find a justification. I realized that Father and Mother had been wrong. After that, I felt devoted to their welfare as they had been to mine and now I do whatever I can to make this a good place for everyone because I like them."

Harry thought over Aidan's words. Funny how friendship can change a person. By Lucinda not giving up on Aidan, he got the chance to find a purpose in life.

"What do you think of your father now, though?"

Aidan gave a slight smile. It was a sad smile but one filled with idealistic hope. "My father is very sick. He is just very misguided. He'll get better through my help. That's my goal."

Harry suddenly became confused. "Your goal? What is?"

"To save my parents."

Harry's eyes must have bugged out because Aidan laughed. "It's not impossible," he said, "it can be done. Everyone said that the Dark Lord couldn't be defeated, but look who I'm talking to! If a small infant can nearly defeat the Dark Lord, who says I can't save my parents?"

"Aidan, your parents are very set in their ways," Harry responded and thought they are completely insane too.

"I don't think it will be easy. I'm not a fool, it will take time. I changed, right? Who knows, maybe they'll learn from my example. I know I can do it." Hope flared its light in Aidan's eyes. "Every illness has a cure. I won't give up on them. They'll see the truth and they'll get better. Then Mother will get better and Father will be able to come home. Everything will be better, you'll see."

Harry could have said many things. He could have said that Aidan was crazy. He could have said to face reality and realize that his parents were beyond redemption. He could have said anything like that but he couldn't. He couldn't say the truth to those eyes, that idealistic boy that had so much faith in the goodness of people and has so much to gain if his plans succeeded. The truth would crush that little boy. Harry wouldn't do that. He couldn't do that.

Instead he said, "Aidan, I hope your dreams come true."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter."

"I think I've seen enough," Harry sighed. He felt like he hadn't slept in weeks.

"There's Floo Powder in the vase on the mantle," Aidan supplied, getting up to fetch the vase. "I hope you come back. You're very understanding."

Aidan seemed stronger than before, as if his telling of his scheme to save his parents had given him resolve to continue. Harry knew, however, how fragile Aidan really was, regardless of his fine poker face.

"And you're a very responsible man. I can tell that you really do your best work here. I'll be glad to come again." With that, he threw the purple dust into the flame he had conjured and returned to his home.

To be continued... 

Author's Notes: What a way to begin a fic! A quote from Stalin! 

This is the first Harry Potter fic I'll be posting even though it is the third fic I have begun. I'm sure you're very confused if you haven't Lessons for Life, so I would advise going back and reading that.

About Aidan talking about Chloe screaming in her sleep: In the original version of Lessons, we got to see the courtroom scene (Caitlyn cut it). During Snape's (yes, Snape) testimony, Chloe falls asleep and has a night terror, right in front of everyone. This scene made an impact on me and I wondered what Aidan thought about that. So, no, Aidan is not psychic and just _knew_ Chloe had night terrors. 

Anyway, please review. If you got questions, ask! Just leave your e-mail address (or better yet, e-mail your question) and I'll get back to you! My address is destinyplot@lycos.com

Please come again!


	2. Trust and Betrayal

Scorched Earth Policy

By Terra

Chapter One: Trust and Betrayal

"The basis of optimism is sheer terror."-Oscar Wilde

*** ***

It was a very dull Saturday afternoon. Dull Saturday afternoons, especially in the summer months, were few and far between for Harry Potter. He had absolutely nothing to do which was wonderful. His son, James, was playing with his many cousins. Ginny was shopping. Chloe was spending the day with her friend, Aidan. He smiled at that thought.

When Chloe finally was old enough to attend Hogwarts, the entire family was petrified because Aidan Malfoy was also ready to enter his first year. The family thought that the shock might be too much for Chloe, seeing the son of the man she still had nightmares about. When she left for Hogwarts, she surprised everyone by becoming his dearest friend there. When Harry asked her why she had decided to become friendly with him, she told him that she was tired of him sitting by himself in a corner, trying to be invisible. "Besides," her voice rattled in his head, "I don't like being predictable!"

No, predictable she never was. Cute as a cherub but she always kept him and eventually Ginny on their toes. That's what made her special.

All thoughts of family aside, Harry was going to enjoy his dull Saturday, drinking lemonade and reading a decent book. And avoiding newspaper articles, especially ones written by Rita Skeeter, even if he did owe her Chloe's life.

That was what he was planning to do but a loud thump shook him out of his thoughts and informed him that he had company. He left the kitchen and heading to the sitting room and found Chloe face down in front of the flickering green fireplace. She quickly scrambled up to her knees and faced the fire.

"Why are you home so early, Angel?" Harry asked but Chloe ignored him, staring endlessly into the emerald-green flames. Harry took a closer look at her and noticed she was trembling. "Chloe, is something wrong?"

"Why isn't he here yet?" Chloe asked the flames. 

"Who?"

Chloe for the first time looked at him. "Aidan, of course!" She whipped back around to face the flames, her hands clenched into anxious fists. Time passed silently and the fire slowly faded into orange, a far cry from green. When every trace of green color had vanished, Chloe screamed in anguish. "He lied! He tricked me! He said he'd come! He lied!" She beat her fists upon the floor as sobs escaped from her throat. "The fool. The bloody fool!"

Harry pulled her up to face him. "What is going on? Chloe, tell me what happened!" Chloe took a staggered breath and wiped the tears away as she began her tale.

"Oh, we had a lovely day and all that but when we returned to his home, we saw one of the girls, Abigail, staring at us from the window. Well, God, we were such MORONS, well, we thought, 'That's weird' but then she pulled away from the window. We went inside and it was really quiet and Aidan got so worried because it shouldn't be so quiet. Then we saw one of the House Elves, Hopskotch, I think, and he kept telling us to leave. Aidan asked him why but he wouldn't say so Aidan guessed that maybe they were throwing us a party. The House Elf said that he was right and we had to leave right away..." Chloe voice broke off as her tears came flowing back to her eyes. 

"Chloe, calm down. I'm assuming the House Elf was not throwing a party."

Chloe shook her head weakly. "No, but we were so stupid, we just kept talking and joking around with him. Then... then..." Chloe's eyes widened in fright as she gasped out, "we heard a terrible scream from upstairs. Before we could even ask the elf, this masked man appeared at the top of the stairs." Chloe clutched her father's robes, close to hysteria. "Daddy, remember when I was little and those men came, wearing masks, in Mummy's school when she was still Ms. Ginny? He was wearing one!"

Harry gasped. A Death Eater in a Muggle-born haven and Chloe Potter had nearly waltzed into the trap. He took a steadying breath and said, "Chloe, go on. I have to know what happened."

Chloe breathed heavily and gripped the sleeves of her father's clothes tighter. "Well, he took the mask off and Aidan said, 'Oh, Uncle Patrick. How lovely to see you.' I could tell Aidan was scared though; his family never comes to see him. And he goes, 'Oh, Aidan, how you've grown. You resemble your father so much but I can see some of your mother in you.' Then he saw me and he kind of laughed and said, 'And Miss Potter too! How delightful to finally meet you. How is your father?' Aidan stood in front of me, just to make sure he wouldn't hurt me. Anyway, Patrick said, 'Don't be afraid of me, my little boy. We're all family. Come, I can help you forget all about this craziness you've been forced to believe.' I think he meant he wanted to do a Memory Charm on him to make him forget everything! We just ran away as fast as we could. We went to the sitting room where the fireplace is and at first, Aidan said he wouldn't go with me but I told him he had to so he agreed." Chloe started to sob uncontrollably. "He said he was going to be right behind me! I want him to be safe too! It's not fair!" At her wits' end, she put her face against her father's chest and cried loudly and painfully. Harry rocked his daughter back and forth, rubbing her back.

"It's okay. You're safe."

"But Aidan's not! And all the kids there aren't!"

Harry sighed, "I know. Chloe, do you have any idea where 'Uncle Patrick' could have taken him or the kids staying there?"

Chloe shook her head mournfully. "No, no idea. Aidan told me that his uncle's name is Patrick Parkinson, his mum's oldest brother, and to tell you that when I got here."

Harry rolled his eyes in irritation. That didn't help him at all. No one knew where the latest Parkinson estate since the last one had burned down during the last war against Lord Voldemort. Well, no one except...

First things first. He had to calm down his daughter. He slowly wriggled his way out of his daughter's grasp. As she kneeled on the ground, sobbing and trembling, Harry took out a mild sleeping potion from the top shelf in the cabinet in the kitchen. He cringed as he realized that giving her a potion wasn't the best option but anything else would take more time. Time Aidan and the others did not have to spare.

He measured out the proper portion in a cup and handed it to Chloe. "Here's a sleeping potion. Why don't you lie down while I figure this out?" Without a single murmur of complaint, she stumbled upstairs as Harry ushered her to her room, where she undressed herself, took the potion and put herself to bed.

Harry then rushed downstairs to compose a note explaining his current situation and a request of both his absent family members to not bother Chloe until she was feeling up to it.

Harry weighed his opinions in his mind but knew he had only one, terrifying choice. He shook his head grimly as he contacted the Ministry to speak with the Auror in charge.

*** ***

"Please rise," a disembodied voice croaked out. A murmur rippled through the courtroom of faceless spectators. In one section of the courtroom, a little boy sat alone. He crossed his ankles and swung his feet back and forth. The bundles of flesh stood and quickly sat as the Devil Judge sat in his hundred foot tall chair. 

The demon's gravel crashed down and caused an earthquake that only little five-year-old Aidan felt or noticed. The demon's voice boomed out, "Rise, Draco Malfoy." A blond, defiant man rose before the Judge's throne. Little Aidan shivered with fright. This is it, he thought. It's all over for me now.

"Draco Malfoy," the Judge roared as the people tittered in their ever-growing rows, "You have been accused of kidnapping a defenseless daughter of a Wizarding hero. Do you want to grovel before your sentence is declared?"

The group hissed and booed. A cry started up, "Tear him apart! He doesn't deserve to live!"

Draco Malfoy shook his head no and the Devil Judge gave a cruel laugh. "Fine! Groveling will not help you now!"

The people turned monstrous as they cried and wailed in anticipation. Some even gnashed their newly grown fangs and flexed their sharp claws in the air.

"Draco Malfoy!" The Judge howled with delight, "The Court, without doubt or pity, finds you guilty!"

The crowd gave a demonic cheer.

"Guilty!"

"Guilty!"

"Guilty!"

"GUILTY!"

*** ***

Aidan's eyes shot open in fright. Man, he hadn't had that nightmare in awhile. Chloe paused her wringing of a damp cloth to look at him.

"Aidan? You okay?"

Aidan took an evaluation of his surroundings and recognized his study. He was laid out on one of the couches with Chloe sitting on the other, separated by a coffee table holding a bowl of water.

"Oh, man! I had the most awful nightmares!"

Chloe smiled a little too broadly as she put the cool, damp cloth on his head. "It's over now, Aidan. Are you feeling better?"

"What happened?" Aidan asked, thankful for Chloe's company.

Chloe stroked his white-blond hair as she sighed, "You fainted as we were talking to Hopskotch. I think you must have heat exhaustion. I told you to drink more water, didn't I?" Chloe again smiled that too broad smile as she awaited his answer.

"Yeah," he said, passing off the odd smile to his disorientation, "serves me right. How long have I been out?"

"Ten, twenty minutes. I haven't been watching the clock." Chloe wiped his face down with the cloth before dumping it back in the water with a plop.

They sat in silence until Aidan said without thinking, "I love you, Chloe."

"I love you, too, Aidan, and I want to bear your children," Chloe responded again with that too broad smile that had become her recent habit.

"Uh, okay, Chloe," Aidan replied, a little confused. Of course, she's kidding, he thought. Trying to make me laugh, that's all. He gave her the satisfaction of him giggling at her obvious joke. Chloe giggled back but it was an odd giggle. A deranged giggle. Aidan closed his eyes; the heat exhaustion was affecting his brain. No one can have a deranged giggle.

"Anyway, I had the two most awful nightmares," Aidan said while Chloe smiled that too wide smile again, "Well, first, we were talking to Hopskotch and suddenly--get this--my uncle Patrick comes down in his Death Eater mask..."

"It's true," Chloe interrupted brightly.

"Excuse me?" 

Her deranged smile not even faltering, she said, "He came."

"My uncle Patrick came here?!"

Without another word and with that insane, too broad smile, a thin red line appeared around her throat and her head disconnected from her body and rolled off her neck on to the floor. The beheaded body sat straight for a moment until finally crashing on to the bowl full of water, revealing a cursed knife sticking out of the girl's back.

*** ***

Aidan screamed in horror as his eyes flew open. Before he could get his bearings, he dropped two feet on to a stone floor on his butt. Pain shot through his spine but he bit back his scream when he remembered whose company he was in.

As the dream Chloe had said, he hadn't been having nightmares. Uncle Patrick had come to Malfoy Manor and the real life Chloe barely managed to escape. Aidan had the option of fleeing as well but the Manor was his responsibility. If his father could stare straight ahead as he was declared guilty and sent to Raveneux, he could stand his ground when his purpose for living was threatened. The men of the Malfoy clan could agree on something at least.

However brave he was, it didn't do much good. A fifteen-year-old boy against a full-grown Death Eater did not have much chance but he could claim that he tried. When the Floo Powder had burnt itself up, Patrick finally found his location and even though Aidan kicked and screamed (a talent he had mastered before he was five), Patrick managed to pull him by the hair to the location of their hostages. Aidan never made it there conscious; Patrick finally got fed up with Aidan resisting and with a simple flick of his wand, knocked Aidan unconscious.

The Death Eaters had decided on a change of venue because Aidan noticed he was no longer in Malfoy Manor. He looked behind him and saw every resident unconscious and being held up by invisible, magical strings. He saw the Death Eaters smirking at him so he quickly stood up, which hurt like hell, and casually brushed himself off like being kidnapped was no big deal. 

"Oh, you may look like your nut of a father," Uncle Patrick laughed, "but you certainly don't act like him. He would have been howling like a child on the floor."

Aidan looked him in the eye. "Well, we lived in different times. Where's my mother?" Uncle Patrick looked from Death Eater to Death Eater until a lackey Aidan hadn't noticed before grunted, "I heard she was with everyone else."

"With plenty of liquor, of course," Uncle Patrick added with a laugh. "As you observe, my dearest nephew, your mother is quite happy right now."

Aidan bit his lip. "I'm being led to assume that she...?"

"Sold you out? Precisely. It's for your benefit, you must understand, to forget all this nonsense."

With a Memory Charm to speed the process, Aidan added in his mind. He vaguely remembered his father remarking on the pointless nature of Memory Charms.

"If we really want someone to dance to our tune," his father's voice echoed in his head as he solemnly walked down the dark corridor, "Imperious does the job. Memory Charms just leave shells and shells can't do anything."

A chill went down Aidan's spine. Memory Charms, not just simple Oblivates but full Memory Charms, were risky. To perform a perfect Memory Charms required a great deal of skill and power; a wizard would have to prepare for days to gather the strength to even consider casting it. Fools, of course, always try it. If the victim was lucky, the caster passed out before the Charm took effect. If the victim wasn't lucky, the caster may live but the subject would be left as only, as his father had said, a shell. A mindless vegetable with no feelings or thoughts. A mass of flesh and bones that would never learn, speak, or even be remotely human in any respects. It was a fate worse than death. He was not going to kid himself; no Death Eater had enough strength or concentration to perform a successful Memory Charm. He doubted the legendary Merlin himself would be able to consider it without a week's worth of rest in a dark, dark room.

Speaking of a dark place, the cold corridor looked like an excellent place to ready a powerful wizard to consider performing a Memory Charm, Aidan thought wryly. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, he figured out that the walls were made of stone. He was most likely being led down into the bowels of wherever he was to some sort of prison until his _loving_ family would perform the Memory Charm or kill him. This all depending on their mood when they remembered their hostage of a nephew. Setting his mind to the logistics of his roots, the Muggle-borns would tortured in many horrible ways, possibly brainwashed as well, then either killed or released under an Imperious to do some dirty work for them. 

Since the walls had lost their interest for him awhile ago, he turned his attention to his captors. At the head of the odd procession was his oldest uncle, Patrick, whom he had not seen since his father's incarceration, looked especially smug and refined. Most likely proud of himself for kidnapping a medium-sized group of defenseless teenagers, including his own nephew, Aidan thought bitterly. There were five underlings with him, flanking the floating bodies. The one closest to him on his left was his father's old underling, Crabbe, and his partner was on Aidan's right, Goyle. Behind Crabbe was Uncle Aaron's oldest son, Joshua, who looked extremely bored. Behind Goyle was the oldest son of one of his aunt's, Harrison, who looked completely lost and confused like the mindless dog he was. Bringing up the rear was the youngest post-Hogwarts uncle of Aidan, Richard, whose wand was holding up the sleeping Muggle-borns.

The situation looked particularly bleak from where Aidan was standing. Hopefully, Chloe managed to get home and tell her father what had happened but he wasn't counting on a quick rescue. As far as the public was concerned, it didn't matter how much Aidan had done for the Manor, the only good Malfoy was a dead Malfoy. Even so, Aidan was not about to lay down and take it, he was still a proper Malfoy and Malfoys never let anyone take advantage of them.

*** ***

The circle of Aurors sat, deep in thought about their current dilemma. Although most of them would not jump at the chance of saving the son of Draco Malfoy, the matter of the twenty-four Muggle-borns warranted attention. The group of twelve bit their lips, played with their hair, or fiddled with their clothes as they turned the situation over in their minds.

A young woman with red highlights leaned forward and said, "Okay. We know that the entire population of Malfoy Manor is gone. We also know that one of the kidnappers is Patrick Parkinson."

A man to her right responded, "But that's it. We have absolutely no idea where they could be or even the condition of the children in question."

An older man spoke up on the woman's left, "Well, they may be at the Parkinson estate."

The first man slammed his fist. "No one knows where the estate is! That brings us back to square one."

Harry answered quietly, "That's not quite true." All attention was turned to the Boy Who Lived. 

"What's not quite true?" The woman asked.

"That no one knows where the estate is. I've been thinking this over," Harry went on, "and I know this is going to sound crazy but there is someone that may know the location of the new estate."

"Pansy Malfoy is gone too, so, no..."

Harry cut him off. "Besides her." Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. It sounded insane in his own head but it was the only option anyone had. "We have to ask Draco Malfoy."

To be continued...

Author's Notes: Hey, Caitlyn let me do my fic! Everyone clap for Caitlyn because she's so cool! I wrote most of this in computer class since I had nothing to do!

Please review! Or just e-mail me! If you forgot my e-mail, it's on the Prologue. 

Please come again!


	3. Keep Your Enemies Closer

Scorched Earth Policy

By Terra

Chapter Two: Keep Your Enemies Closer

"Insane people are always sure that they are fine. It is only the sane people who are willing to admit that they are crazy."-Nora Ephron

*** ***

"Are you COMPLETELY insane?!" A young, freckled man with brown hair demanded. "This is Draco Malfoy we are talking about here! Not some petty criminal that didn't feel like paying his taxes!"

A blonde woman agreed, "He's out of his mind! He'll be a hindrance, not a help."

The oldest Auror slammed his fist on to the table. "He'll kill the rest of those kids without a thought if we give him half a chance."

Harry sighed, "I know it sounds impossible but I think Malfoy is our only option here. He was married to Pansy Parkinson, he must know where his wife's family lives. Also," Harry paused and smiled, continuing, "His own son is included in the kidnapping. He's a selfish person, he'll want to protect his son."

The freckled man gave a sour laugh, "Or he may think it was a jolly good idea. They were on the same team during the war, they have the same beliefs."

The blonde woman sighed, "Even if we could convince Malfoy to help us, how would we make sure that he would stay under control? He's very powerful and very delusional."

"Send me then," Harry Potter suggested.

"His mortal enemy?" The blonde woman cried. "He hates you."

"Exactly."

There was a silence in the room as the rest of the Aurors tried to sort out that logic.

Finally the freckled man put their thoughts to words, "How does that help?"

"He hates me and I hate him. We have fought since our first day in Hogwarts together. I know how he thinks. I know his visual clues. He, likewise, knows how powerful I am. How ruthless I am, he knows if he falls out of line, I'll finish him without batting an eye. We both know each other very well."

A raven-haired woman chuckled, "And I bet he probably remembers very well the wandless magic Mr. Potter can do. I heard he was out for hours after that attack." The woman leaned back in her chair as Harry squirmed; he didn't really want to bring that up. The woman continued, "I'm beginning to see his point. He's fought Malfoy more times than everyone else in this room. I think Harry Potter can handle him this time as well."

Slowly, one by one, the rest of the Aurors nodded their heads in agreement. The blonde woman frowned, and said, "There's still a problem here."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Malfoy's sentence, remember? 'From this day forward, Draco Malfoy will be forbidden to practice magic or be in possession of any object with magical properties'. I thought you of all people would remember."

Harry smacked himself in the head. "Right. Forgot. He'll be useless."

The freckled man sighed, "Back to square one..."

"No," the elder Auror corrected, "there is a way to get around that." The room was suddenly hanging on to every word. "It's been done before. If I can get permission from the Minister, that sentence could be temporarily revoked at an Auror's discretion, namely Harry here. The convict would be given permission to use magic but only as long as the Auror having use of him or her allows. Of course, the time limit would have to established beforehand and put on the writ."

"Then we'll have to do that," the blonde woman replied, "How long will it take to get such a writ?"

"As long as it takes to communicate on the Network," the elder explained, "I'll do that now. Meanwhile, Mr. Potter will ask for Draco Malfoy's help and cooperation. By the time you return, I should have the writ for you. This meeting is dismissed."

"Should I give you the time limit now?" Harry asked, rising with his peers.

"No, the procedure says the convict must see the time agreed upon and sign it himself, proving that he was well aware of the restrictions of his freedom." With that, the older man glided out of the conference room to get in contact with Percy Weasley. Before Harry left the room, the freckled man clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck, Harry. I have a feeling you need it."

*** ***

For a name like Raveneux, Harry thought, it sure was white. Raveneux, the mental faculty for the criminally insane, was one of the whitest places Harry had ever seen. The atmosphere was both down-trodden and tense from the combination of old and new convicts, some who were resigned to their fates and others who knew that they could get out if they could get rid of the insects under their skin.

The nurses and psychologists skittered around quickly without looking, without thinking, knowing where they were going like they were born there. The convicts he saw were huddled in chairs and sometimes talking to a compassionate friend or a heart-broken wife or daughter. Those without visitors sat, staring at the walls or having a perfectly comfortable conversation with a side table. One, Harry noticed, laughed at a funny joke that a fake potted plant had made. The laugher was quickly joined by a tired nurse, patting his arm, "Mr. Heven, I was worried about you. You shouldn't be in the sitting area." The laugher gave her a depressed look and moaned, "Can't I talk to my daughter a few more moments?" Harry felt a lump in his throat but the nurse was obviously used to his behavior and said as compassionate as ever, "Mr. Heven, you need to talk to your counselor now. Come on." As the man was led away, he called out, "Be good in school! Bring one of your Muggle photo projects next time, okay?" The potted plant didn't reply.

"Where's your band?" A voice asked behind Harry. Harry felt himself being pulled around by his right hand by a firm grip. He faced a young nurse in her late twenties glaring at his right hand, muttering, "How did he pull it off?"

"Excuse me? I'm not a patient here. I'm Harry Potter, an Auror." Harry took out his identification. The nurse gasped, "Oh, I'm so sorry! You seemed so lost. They all do. Are you visiting a friend?"

"Yes, you could say that but may I ask a question? There was a man over there, a Mr. Heven, why is he here?"

The nurse's face became sad as she let out a long breath, "You wouldn't think he was violent, would you? I don't take care of him personally but word goes that his daughter, a florist, was murdered a few years back. Now he thinks every plant is his daughter and any one who harmed a plant in his presence, he murdered on the spot. It is quite horrible what grief can do." The nurse bit her lip but continued brightly, "Your friend? Who are you visiting, I might be able to tell you where your friend is."

"Well, as I said, it's not really a friend. Do you know where Draco Malfoy is being kept?"

The nurse's jaw dropped in shock. "You want to see _who_?"

"Draco Malfoy."

The nurse shook her head in disbelief but responded dumbly, "I don't work with him but I know who does. Follow me." The nurse walked towards a left hallway, forever muttering, "Draco Malfoy. Malfoy, of all people..." Harry followed the nurse through a myriad of hallways. Sometimes he would pass a closed conference room and hear an crazy shriek, topics ranging from "I'm a fish" to "I'm gonna go to your house and kill your babies!" The nurse didn't notice these shrieks, just kept walking.

Finally, they came across a door with a window showing an older woman with her red hair in a tight bun. She had a slight bruise on her jaw and a tiny scar above her right eyebrow. She was busy taking notes during a talk with a patient in those infamous conference rooms. Harry couldn't hear what the female convict was saying but she was visibly crying and gesturing with her hands.

"Well, Doctor Lovejoy seems to be in a conference but I know that she personally manages him. She shouldn't be long," the nurse concluded, "so I'll leave you here." The nurse skirted off, still murmuring, "Draco Malfoy, what a weird request, Draco Malfoy..."

Harry sat on the floor to the right of the conference door, rehearsing what he was going to say to Draco Malfoy. He almost laughed at the thought of it; Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy working together, as a team, to save Malfoy's son and a group of Muggle-borns. He certainly didn't see this one coming.

The door swung open as he heard a shaky, tear-choked voice say calmly, "I think that really helped, Doctor. I'll just walk myself back to my room..." the convict, who was speaking, looked down at Harry and screamed.

"Charlotte!" the doctor ran out after her. The convict was visibly shaking. She pointed a finger at Harry's shocked face and said, "There's a man here."

The doctor sighed, and responded as if to a child, "Yes, Charlotte."

"Well, any minute now he's going to pull down his drawers and point his 'Merlin's Wand' at me!"

Harry nearly fell over. "What am I going to do?!"

The doctor crossed her arms and spoke rationally to Harry, "Sir, were you planning to drop your undergarments?"

"Of course not!"

"Did you intend in harming my patient?"

"No," Harry shook his head. This was just a weird conversation.

The doctor turned back to Charlotte. "You see, this man was sitting there, minding his own business. He's probably waiting for someone."

Charlotte was relentless. "Maybe, but he's probably undressing me with his eyes! He's probably planning to follow me to my room to teach me a good lesson!"

The doctor sighed again, clearly this had happened many times before, "Charlotte, I'll make you a deal. This man here can cover his eyes and I'll watch him to make sure he isn't peeking so you can go to your room and he won't see which way you went."

Charlotte sniffled, "Thank you, Doctor. I'm sorry I'm such a bother."

Harry covered his eyes when the doctor waved her hand at him. The woman's steps slowly faded away. After the padding of her feet had vanished, the doctor said, "You can open your eyes now."

Harry uncovered his eyes and rose with a sigh. The doctor held out her hand. "Unless I'm mistaken, you're the Great Harry Potter."

Harry shook her hand and joked, "The scar tip you off or was it something else?"

"The scar. You must get that a lot, Mr. Potter. I'm Doctor Lovejoy and I'm sorry for what just happened, she's an androphobe."

"A what?"

"An androphobe, someone who fears men. Unfortunately, she kills them too so, that doesn't really help her case. She's better than she was, a year ago she would have tried to strangle you. Believe me, she's done it before." Doctor Lovejoy walked away from her conference room as Harry followed closely behind. "She's lucky in one respect, she feels guilt and she wants to stop hurting people. That means there's a piece of sanity left for her. Others don't feel guilt, don't understand right and wrong. They don't think they have a problem. They'll never get out that way."

"Like Draco Malfoy?" Harry prompted.

"Yes, like Draco Malfoy. I had a feeling your business concerned him."

"Is he 'better' like her?"

Doctor Lovejoy's eyes narrowed in thought. "As a professional, I could say he has improved. But not enough to be considered for release. But he has improved. He doesn't see rats anymore for instance."

"Rats?" Harry asked.

The doctor nodded. "Rats. He saw millions of rats from time to time. These 'rats' may him quite nervous and caused violent behavior. He punched me once because he saw one of these 'rats' crawl on me."

"How nice," Harry replied sarcastically then asked, "When did this stop?"

"Three years ago. He hasn't seen a rat or anything imaginary for all that time. I think it was a reflection of grief or worry myself. As for the Dark Lord stuff..." the doctor trailed off.

"Has that not improved?" Harry asked warily. He had completely forgotten the extent of Malfoy's mental spiral into insanity.

"Well, it depends. Sometimes, he's Draco Malfoy. Sometimes, he's the Dark Lord. The good news is he's Draco Malfoy more than he's the Dark Lord. It used to be half-and-half. And he maintains one personality throughout the day. He goes to sleep with the same personality he got up with."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?" Harry demanded, "He's been here for ten years!"

"Things like this take time and the patient has to contribute to his therapy as well. The first three years of his sentence were useless. He didn't speak to me. He didn't follow my instructions. He tried to break out a few times also. The only reason he's even cooperating now is because he wants to get out and 'fix' his son before it's too late."

"'Fix' him? In what way?"

The doctor sighed again. "He believes that Aidan is clearly misguided and needs his presence to put him back on the right path. He needs to learn the 'proper' way to live."

"Which is killing Muggle-borns?" Harry suggested.

"Draco Malfoy doesn't see that way but yes, basically, a system of hate and prejudice. He believes that Aidan is starting to believe in the lies and tricks of the 'Muggle-sympathizing' government." The doctor bit her lip. "The worst part is I think about relatively sane wizards and witches who truly believe that too. That's not considered a mental illness. I'm not allowed to treat that philosophy."

Harry didn't reply. This whole plan was starting to resemble a Monet painting. Sure, far away, at a distance, it looked wonderful and flawless. As Harry drew closer, the colors separated and it was beginning to look like a disaster. 

The doctor had reached what appeared to be her office and ducked into it. She returned with a new clipboard with its own attached quill. "Why are you visiting Mr. Malfoy anyway? Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're not exactly a close family friend."

"No," Harry replied glumly. The paint blobs were so awful at this close range. "It's Auror business. There's been a kidnapping."

The doctor dropped her clipboard. "Surely, his son, Aidan, wasn't..."

Harry bent down to hand back her clipboard and answered, "Yes, Aidan was taken as well. But Malfoy might have information we need which why I need to see him."

The doctor nodded and led him towards Malfoy's room. "We keep him and others like him at a special section. The people less insane than others but are still a danger to themselves and society. It will be quite a long walk."

The pair walked in silence as they passed doors and lost, glassy-eyed people. The doctor flipped through her pages about Draco Malfoy's progress. "You're in luck, Mr. Potter."

"I am?" Harry said, surprised.

"He's himself today. He's been quiet as well. He's been reasonable," the doctor continued, "This would usually be the time for his conference. He's not trusted enough alone to walk to me, so I have to escort him to the conference room and escort him back to his room. He doesn't leave his room much. He eats there too. He's in complete isolation." The doctor looked up from her notes and commented to Harry, "Do you know that you are the second person in ten years to visit him here? Only his son has ever come here. I've never seen anyone else."

"Not even his wife?"

"They hate each other. He told me that the marriage was arranged. He claims that Aidan's life began only because the wine had an excellent year."

"Must have been some year," Harry added. The doctor chuckled lightly. The hallways continued and more guards became present. Here's where the real criminals are kept, Harry thought. Finally, they reached hex-proof glass sliding doors labeled in large, red block letters: Security Zone. Clearance is Required. Two security hit wizards stood guard and took both the doctor's and Harry's identification. They approved the clearance and the doors slowly opened. The doctor gestured to Harry to pass through first. Harry calmly passed over the threshold with the doctor trailing behind him as the door slid shut.

There was only a single hallway leading them on. The doctor continued briskly in front of Harry. The doctor again checked over her papers and explained, "I need to speak to him first. Check-up, you understand, before you can go in. Don't worry about your wand. Even if he gets it, he can't use it with his Blocking Bands."

Harry interrupted, "Uh, those Blocking Bands. Can they be removed?"

"Of course. But I don't see why you'd want to. That was his sentence." The doctor finally looked up from her notes and stopped cold before asking, "Forgive me but why do you need to see Mr. Malfoy? You're just asking him questions, right?"

Harry bit his lip. Those water lilies were just big, thick globs of paint. "No, I mean, I'm going to ask him questions but..."

"But what?" The doctor was beginning to look very angry.

"We need to release him temporarily."

Doctor Lovejoy nearly ripped her clipboard in two. "Release him?!"

"Temporarily," Harry corrected meekly. She was like a young Mrs. Weasley.

"You can not be serious! He is not even close to even _considering_ a release! Draco Malfoy is a very sick man who is a danger to everyone around him," the distraught doctor hissed, "I may have said that he has improved but he has a long way to go to recovery, if he ever manages it at all."

Harry groaned, "Do you think I want to ask him? I have no other options, we're up against a corner. Sad to say, we need his help."

The doctor stared at Harry for a long, silent minute then turned to continue walking, saying, "I hope to God he refuses because he still not ready for this."

*** ***

The lights flickered over Harry's head as the doctor spoke to Draco Malfoy in the room while Harry waited outside. He had asked for her to not mention who was visiting so Draco would be caught off guard and Harry would have a chance to say his piece.

Doctor Lovejoy's patient voice floated over to Harry's ears from the room. "How are you today?"

Draco's voice replied, "Bored."

The doctor laughed. "Better than yesterday."

"I still think you're making it all up."

"We've had this discussion before, Draco," the doctor sighed. "The minute you accept it, the minute we can work on it."

"What's to work on?"

The doctor didn't reply to that statement. "Well, I've decided not to conference with you today. I hope you don't mind."

Draco sarcastically answered, "My heart bleeds."

The doctor continued, ignoring him, "Because you have a visitor. Have a good day."

"Whatever," Harry heard Draco mutter after her. The doctor entered the hallway again as the door automatically sealed behind her with a sucking sound. Harry pulled himself up wearily; this was starting to look like a bad course of action. The doctor took down notes on her clipboard (how she could take notes on such an unenlightening conversation, Harry had no idea) and said, "You can see him now. I still think this is the worst idea the Ministry has ever come up with. A guard will show you out when you're through with him." With a shrug, she turned on the ball of her foot and walked away. Harry gave a long sigh. This wasn't going to be fun, Harry knew that much. 

Harry said the password that would unseal the door to Draco's cell. Harry heard the door click that meant the locks on the door had vanished. Harry pushed the door open and walked inside. The room was small and the walls were unsurprisingly padded. There was the slight scent of paint fumes but Harry quickly disregarded it. From the iron-barred window high above Harry on the wall facing him, sunlight made its feeble attempt to shine in the room. On the ceiling was a long fluorescent light. As far as Harry could tell, there was no light switch. The furniture was sparse; only a metal folding chair and a cot attached to the wall with bolts and heavy wire. On the cot sat Draco Malfoy, his arms crossed over his knees with his forehead resting on his limbs. Draco Malfoy was wearing stark white shirt and pants with white cotton socks. Below him was a matching white pair of slippers, obviously used for his rare walks to his doctor's conference room. As expected, around his wrists and ankles were the metal bracelets that took away Malfoy's right to practice magic. 

Draco Malfoy had not changed. His hair was the same, his skin tone was the same, if a touch lighter. He had neither gained nor lost any weight in the last ten years. Harry could even argue that Malfoy had not aged a day since his trial.

"Back again so soon, Aidan?" Draco asked, not looking up, "Or have I lost track of the days again?" 

Harry coughed in reply. Draco's head snapped up at the sound like a cobra. Draco locked his silver eyes on Harry's form. Up and down, slowly his eyes went, not believing the evidence before them. Finally, Draco responded, "Huh. This is certainly a surprise."

"Hello, Malfoy."

"Hello, Potter. What brings you here? Don't tell me I've managed to kidnap your Mudblood daughter again."

"No," Harry answered, gritting his teeth.

"No? Then tell me, Golden Boy," Draco drawled with fake respect, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"It's about the Parkinsons."

Draco's eyes lit up and he clapped his hands together like a boy waking up on Christmas Day. "Oh! Is Pansy finally dead?"

"No, she's not."

Draco slumped back against the wall, defeated. "Well, that's a shame. I was beginning to think you actually has something important to say."

Harry took a big calming breath. "Malfoy, do you remember the war?"

"No, I don't," Draco said, sarcastically, "but refresh my memory."

"Well, the Parkinson estate was destroyed, do you remember that?"

"I might," Draco replied, bored, "Is there a point to this?"

"If you let me finish, you'll hear it," Harry growled.

"I'm hanging on to your every word."

"Malfoy, after the war, did you visit the Parkinsons?"

Draco put the pretense of thinking hard about the question. Harry tapped his foot in agitation. Finally, the convict replied, "Who wants to know?"

"I do! Along with the entire Auror force! Now tell me yes or no!"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because I'll kill you painfully if you don't! Just answer the question!"

Draco gave a small laugh. "Ah, what a fool you are, Potter. If you kill me, you'll never know."

Harry tore at his hair. He did not have time for mind games. Those Muggle-borns certainly didn't have time for mind games either. He repeated his question slowly, "Did you visit the Parkinson family in their new estate? Yes or no."

Draco's eyes moved in circles as he appeared to weight pros and cons of telling Harry the information. "I'll tell you if you tell me why you need to know."

"I'll tell you after you answer the question since I asked first."

Draco rolled his eyes and answered monotone, "Yes."

"Do you remember where it was?"

"Yes."

"Will you tell me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why should I?" Draco laughed. "And you still haven't answered my question."

Harry ground his teeth and pulled at his hair. Finally, he answered, "There's been a kidnapping."

"And I care because...?"

"Well, it was in your old Manor."

Draco cocked his head at the given information. "You mean, the new haven for Mudbloods?"

"Yes."

Draco raised his eyes towards heaven. "There's justice in this world."

"They could be dead!"

"Even better. And I guess the Parkinsons are behind this?"

"As far as we know. Along with the Muggle-borns, your son, Aidan was taken."

Draco didn't reply right away but his body reacted faster than his tongue ever could. He tensed up sharply and sat a little straighter. This was worth Malfoy's interest.

"Why did they take him? He's not a Mudblood."

"He was there. He runs the Manor."

Draco appeared uneasy but replied, "Perhaps it's for the best."

"We have reason to believe that they are considering a full Memory Charm on Aidan."

Malfoy leapt off the cot and shouted, "A Memory Charm?!"

"So we believe." Draco began to pace around the room, running his hands through his pale blond hair in distress. If the situation weren't so serious, Harry would have found Draco's anguish amusing. Now he cares, Harry thought.

"They're idiots! Fools! Thinking a Memory Charm is going to fix everything! Like they have the skill!" Draco ranted. "He'll be a shell. A vegetable! Absolutely useless! All his talent wasted, he won't exist! They might as well bring a Dementor and give him the kiss and be done with it!" Draco paused and said quietly, "He'll never finish his painting. He'll lose it all."

"What painting?" Harry asked, surprised to see Draco show feelings towards another human being. Draco said nothing, only twirled his finger to indicate Harry to turn around. Harry didn't dare leave his back open to his mortal enemy but he did rotate his head to look behind and gasped at what he saw.

On the wall with the shut door was the beginning of a grand mural. This wall was not padded although Harry could tell it once had been because the base of the wall still had bits of padding stuck to forgotten nails. The effect caused Harry to fully turn his body to observe it. The bottom fourth of the wall was obviously a dark, rich field. Harry could feel the damp coldness of the dew-covered grass under his feet just by looking at it. Above the field, taking up the second quarter, a rich array of red, orange, and gold, blending to create a visual melody of the most wondrous kind. It was awe-inspiring.

"Wow," was all Harry could say, "Double wow."

"It's dawn," Draco explained quietly, once again sitting back down on his cot, "It's supposed to inspire me to 'find a new dawn', as Aidan put it. I don't know if it does but it is nice to look at."

"Did he do this all by himself?" Harry breathed. Ginny's ceiling didn't hold a candle to this work-in-progress.

"Yes, during every visit. At first, he sneaked in his supplies, painted it in secret. But my doctor noticed the smell of the fumes and finally realized that the padding had been disconnected from the wall." Draco laughed, "They thought I did it but I explained that Aidan had. So, Doctor Lovejoy tore down the entire padding and told Aidan that he could finish."

"Wouldn't the fumes make you sick?" Harry asked.

"The doctor put a charm on it to block the harmful effects even though you can still smell the paint." Harry turned his eyes away from the impressive sight and back to the painter's father, who looked mournful. Draco continued, "But with a Memory Charm, a real Memory Charm, he won't be able to paint like that anymore. Hell, he'll be lucky if he could even think anymore."

"So," Harry replied softly, "will you tell me now?"

"Yes. The problem is you can't Apparate on to the grounds. The forest guarding it is impossible to navigate through unless you have someone leading you."

"So, the same as the last estate? Well, Malfoy, looks like I'll be needing you."

Malfoy laughed. "How can I help? I can't do magic! I can't even leave this room!"

"Well, you can."

Malfoy gave Harry his full attention. "I can? I've been pardoned?"

"Not pardoned, per say. Just temporarily released so you can help us. If you agree."

Malfoy shook his head. "I still have no magic."

"That's being arranged as we speak."

Draco's jaw dropped. "I'll have my magic back?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "With limitations, of course. And a time limit."

"Right, right, right." Draco waved it off as unimportant. He stood up and said, "When shall we begin?"

*** ***

"Do you, Draco Malfoy, understand your rights and limitations during the agreed time limit?"

Draco Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. I understand."

"Do you understand the consequences of violating the laws handed down to you during..."

"Yes! Yes! I understand! Take the damned things off!" Draco waved his arms about madly. The Aurors surrounding him looked nervously at his keeper, Harry Potter, who simply sighed. Big, ugly lumps of paint swam before his eyes.

The government official continued, monotone, "Do you understand the time limit stated here?"

"Yes! 'Until all parties in question have escaped the confines of their captors or until Auror Harry Potter has stated otherwise'! Take them off!"

"Mr. Potter, sign here." Harry bent down and wrote his signature on the indicated line. " Mr. Malfoy..." Draco ripped the quill out of Harry's hands and scribbled his name quickly. Without missing a beat, he thrust his wrists in Harry's face, growling, "Remove them." He quickly added with clenched teeth, "Please."

Harry looked at his peers for support as he unlocked the bracelets on his wrists. The magic dissolved in a whisper of lavender dust and the bonds snapped open, falling to the floor. Draco nearly kicked Harry in the face as he bent down to do the same to the circlets on his ankles. Harry quickly gathered the pieces of metal as Draco cheered. "I'm free! I've waited so long for this!"

"You're not free, Malfoy," Harry corrected angrily, "the minute we're done, they're right back on, I can guarantee that."

"Who cares? I'm free at the moment. I'll be free again, just you see."

The eldest Auror waved his hand at the pair. "Just go already! The faster you're done, the quicker he goes back in and we can forget about him and let him rot again."

Harry Potter poked Draco Malfoy in the back to make him move towards the door. Draco grunted in protest but moved forward. A government official quickly opened the door in fright as the two enemies marched out.

To be continued...

Author's Notes: Draco is way too much fun to write. The line "Wow. Double Wow" was Caitlyn's reaction to my explanation of the mural. I thought it was funny so I added it. Is it just me or does Doctor Lovejoy make you think of Lockheart? I didn't do it on purpose, she's not supposed to be like Lockheart. 

Lookie, review button. Buttons…! Or e-mail me! Ask questions, praise me, or kick my butt, I don't care! I read flames and I even reply!

Please come again!


	4. Follow the Paper Trail

Scorched Earth Policy

By Terra

Chapter Three: Follow the Paper Trail

"Everyone has a talent. What is rare is the courage to nurture it in solitude and to follow the talent to the dark places where it leads."-Erica Jong

*** ***

Harry Potter Apparated his "lovely" companion to a secluded alley in Muggle London. Draco Malfoy peered around in a confused matter. "Why are we in Muggle London?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "So we can go to Diagon Alley through the pub in Muggle London."

"Why do we need to go to Diagon Alley?"

Harry stared at him in disbelief. "To get you a wand, perhaps?"

"Why do we need to get me a wand?"

"Don't tell me you don't remember what a wand is. It's a little pointy stick..."

"I know what a wand is, why do I need a new one?"

"How else are you going to perform magic?"

"With my wand."

There was a pause. Harry took a deep breath. "Let's start again."

Draco shrugged. "Okay."

"We need to get you a wand."

"No, we don't."

Harry stomped his foot. "Why not?"

"Calm down, Potter. I already have one."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"How could you if they took it away?!"

Draco chuckled, and said in singsong, "Someone needs to review his law books."

Harry replied in a similar singsong voice, "No, I don't."

Draco answered seriously, "Well, I don't personally have it in my possession but it wasn't destroyed or anything."

Harry clapped as if this concluded the discussion. "There you go. You don't have a wand. Let's go now." Harry turned to exit the alley but Draco stood in place.

Draco began to recite, as if he had this memorized, "'Article 15, Section 4, Paragraph 3: If the accused has a minor under his or her care, and is under or at but not over the admission age for any of leading Wizardry Schools, the accused's wand will be placed in the care of the minor in question which the minor may or may not use during their enrollment.' So, you see, Potter, I do have my wand. It's in my home." Draco took a step forward. "Besides, there is no way in Hell that I'm walking on to a Muggle or Wizarding street wearing this white torture suit."

"So, basically, you want to change clothes. It's not really about the wand," Harry concluded, then added, "But what if Aidan gave it back? Got it recycled?"

"Then I'll go get a new one after I change my clothes."

"You make this so difficult!" Harry stomped back and Apparated both of them away to Malfoy Manor.

*** ***

The Malfoy Manor was the paragon of immortality. No matter what year it was, what season it was, or who ran it, it never changed in appearance. Yet again, Harry was standing in front of Malfoy Manor for the third time, the second time for something hopelessly dire. 

Draco walked up to the double doors without hesitation and Harry trampled behind him. Without even stopping, Draco slammed open the doors and scrambled inside. Harry followed him and closed the creaking doors behind them. 

Draco was very pleased. He surveyed the entrance hall like a prospective buyer. "He didn't do a bad job," he commented to Harry, "I was expecting it to look different but very little has changed. The bench was a nice idea," Draco concluded, nodding his head towards the little bench. Draco didn't wait for Harry to reply before he leapt up the staircase, mumbling, "Ah, carpet. That's new." Harry practically had to run up the stairs to catch up with Malfoy, who had zipped into the Male Wing as Harry remembered Aidan calling it. 

Draco speedwalked to the Malfoy wing with Harry trotting behind him.

"Have you been here before since I left?" Draco asked, not looking at Harry.

"Yes."

"Any idea _why_ the doors have blue and black dots on them?" Draco asked, sounding very annoyed. "That's pure vandalism, you know."

"Aidan told me it's to warn people of dangerous rooms." Draco stopped cold. Harry barely managed not to crash into his back.

"That's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard." Draco turned to face Harry. "We put dangerous room in here for a reason: to discourage outsiders. Why put in dangerous rooms if we're going to warn people about them? So what if one or two Mudbloods die? That's what the rooms are designed to do after all." His tirade complete, Draco spun on his heel and continued on his way, without giving Harry time to reply to Draco's comments.

Draco apparently had no problem finding his chambers although he had been absent for ten years. Finally, the maze of hallways came to end and the duo found themselves at the entrance of single hallway where the Malfoys, for generations, had slept. 

The air was the same as before; evil, threatening. Knowing too much about the past but the secrets it tried to tell were garbled with a combination of time and fear. The air was still ice cold. It still had that dead quality. But if Draco noticed, he didn't seem to care. He sauntered right in with hesitation. Harry shivered. It was frightening; the hall seemed to have been looking forward to Draco's return. He was in touch with the dead, murderous air that was incased within the walls dripping in invisible blood and gore.

However, when Draco opened the door to his old bedroom, he coughed and pulled away, retreating back into the hall, crawling on the ground, holding his hand over his mouth.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry asked, skirting over to his coughing companion. Harry soon remembered why he disliked this place so much. The stench could almost be considered poisonous. 

"Did someone die in there?" Draco choked out. "No one can live in that."

Harry's eyes watered. "It's worse than the last time." Draco gagged in reply. Eventually, the smell lessened somewhat as oxygen finally diluted the gaseous substance that was composed of blood, alcohol, and bodily wastes that Pansy vainly called air. After the odor was merely tolerable, Draco and Harry gathered the courage to enter the cursed room.

The stains were more numerous. Bottles still dominated the floor but they had expanded their military conquest and had added the tables and windowsills to their pathetic empire. The sheets and curtains were nearly brown; it was impossible to tell that they had once been white. The make-up had not been touched in years and the cracked mirror was covered in hardened grime. Draco stumbled around in shock.

"This was my room," Draco stammered, "I slept here! And... yeah, I slept here." Draco threw his arms towards the ceiling, which was yellow and cracked. The light fixture was demolished. Draco cocked his head one way uncertainly then concluded, shouting, "Aidan was conceived here!" Draco cocked his head the other way and mumbled, "I think. I'm still kind of shaky on where Aidan came from."

"Maybe opening the window will help?" Harry suggested, going towards the filth covered window. Harry pushed over the colonizing bottles and nearly touched the window. Then he noticed that it was covered in hardened grime and a gummy substance. He didn't really want to touch that. "Never mind. I think it's sealed shut anyway."

Draco had come over his shock and had drummed up the courage to check for bodies. Harry interrupted his search, "She's gone."

"Dead?"

"Missing."

"Damn."

"I know you hate her and everything," Harry replied, "but couldn't you pretend to be concerned?"

"Why should I?"

"She's your wife!"

"And...?"

"Doesn't that count for something?"

"No." Draco abandoned the murky brown bed to examine the wardrobe. The wardrobe's doors were covered in alcohol stains. It was surround by a moat-like stain composed of blood, human waste, alcohol, and maybe even vomit. Draco delicately stepped over the ring and opened the wardrobe. 

The robes inside were obviously women's clothes. Long ago, they may have been beautiful and awe-inspiring but time had not treated the finery well. The robes were barely more than fancy, lacy rags. There were more rips than material. Of course, as expected by this point, it was stained with blood, human wastes, alcohol, and definitely vomit.

"I'm starting to notice a pattern here," Draco joked to Harry, who was now standing behind him in shock. He continued in a more serious but not sympathetic tone, "I shouldn't be surprised. Her mother was the same." Draco bent down and opened the drawers. Here were men's robes that had not been touched in ten years and therefore in excellent condition. Draco riffled through the contents until he found a suitable black one. He gingerly placed it on the least disgusting place on the bed and made to take off his shirt then saw Harry as if for the first time.

"Well, leave unless you want to watch me undress!"

Harry shook his head. "I can't leave you by yourself, Malfoy."

Draco snickered, "I didn't know you were that way, Potter."

"I am not 'that way'. I still have to keep an eye on you! I'll look away, okay? I just can't leave the room." Harry looked towards the door, away from Draco, to prove his point. Harry heard Draco quickly undress and redress in his chosen robes then he said, "I'm done."

Harry turned around and answered, "Terrific. Find your wand and let's get going." Draco dragged over the chair from the vanity (which was covered in the usual fare of the room) and stood on it to reach the area above the wardrobe, which seemed to be open air until Harry heard a slight click and a square section of the wall above the wardrobe opened up to reveal another cupboard. Draco stuck his hand into the hidden cupboard and Harry heard his palm slap on to the wooden frame of the hiding place. Draco began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked.

"He's smarter than he looks."

"Who?"

"Aidan. He moved it."

"Yeah, as in, got it recycled?"

Draco shook his head. "I asked him that when he entered Hogwarts and he said, no, in case I was ever released. But what if I came back before I was released, Potter?"

"As in," Harry started, finally catching on to Aidan's train of thought that Draco understood, "if you ever escaped. Of course! The first thing you would do is come back here is to get your wand and start a mad killing spree."

"A mad killing spree?"

"I wouldn't put it past you. Of course, if he put it right back where you had it, you'd find it with no problem."

Draco nodded. "Exactly."

Harry tore at his hair. "But that doesn't help us!"

"Well, he didn't exactly plan on being kidnapped," Draco replied in his son's defense. 

"So, do we go back to Diagon Alley now?"

"No," Draco answered, "we try to think like my son. Now, if you were Aidan and had me as a father..."

"I'd kill myself," Harry answered promptly.

"Oh very funny. Be serious. Where would you put the wand?"

"It really depends on how much effort Aidan put into hiding it. I, personally, would bury it outside but hopefully, he didn't do that."

"But Aidan wouldn't bury it. He's not hiding it from me, he's simply misplacing it to discourage me. He always planned to give it back when I was released."

The two men thought about possible "alternate" locations for a wand. After a spell, Harry said, "The study."

"The study?"

"He seems to spend most of his time there. He might have wanted it close at hand, just in case." 

"Better than nothing at all." Draco jumped down from the disgusting chair as Harry walked out of the room. Draco quickly followed, not wanting to spend another minute in the foul place.

*** ***

The study had not changed very much. The desk was less cluttered than last time and several books had been added to the shelves. A few more ornaments reflecting Aidan's taste rather than his predecessors had found their place throughout the room. 

"Who changed the sign on the door?" Draco asked before walking inside.

"I did," Harry replied, "I thought it made more sense since you didn't live here anymore."

"What if I came back, hmm?"

"I'm not exactly holding my breath here."

"At least, he didn't do too much to the study itself. It's the Malfoy legacy, after all. Surely, he understood that much without me telling him." Draco glided over to the desk and pulled hard on the three cabinets. "Locked," Draco concluded angrily, "Stupid son of mine."

"I'll get it," Harry growled, pushing Draco aside. "Alohomara." All three cabinets slid open. The cabinets were filled with sheets of paper with writing on them but Harry didn't care. He began pulling chunks of paper out of the top drawer in search for a wand. The top drawer came up dry so he tore apart the second drawer, throwing the excess paper behind him carelessly. That too came up empty of any wands. Harry scrambled through the bottom drawer but only came up with pieces of paper, tied together in large wads, but no wands. He finally checked the unlocked drawer under the table itself but only saw official records and extra quills.

"Malfoy, I'm beginning to think that Aidan definitely buried it outside and since we don't have time for that, we should..." Harry turned to face Draco but Draco was not paying any attention to Harry at all. Draco on his knees, surrounded by a ring of discarded papers, in utter shock. He touched the sheets softly, not believing his eyes. Harry bent down to see what made Draco so fascinated. 

There were thousands of half-finished letters from Aidan to others, letters to Aidan, poetry, songs and their scores, and artwork. It was the poetry and songs that really caught their attention. Every piece within arm's reach was full of guilt, pain, suffering, loneliness, and sometimes hope, topics ranging from Draco Malfoy to, Harry noticed to his surprise, Chloe Grace Potter

Grace

Somewhere along the line

They thought of Grace

Unaware of the truth behind it

You demonstrate more than

Physical Grace, which is limiting

Mental

Spiritual

Emotional

Saving

You are truly the deity

Of Grace

That was only one stanza; the rest of the poem used the other stanzas to reflect the rest of Chloe's name, even the Dursley part. That poem was actually quite recent because every poem was dated. Harry read some written as much as ten years before, when Draco was first found guilty. Harry riffled through the emotional collage of Aidan's soul, seeing his terrible times and his most precious. The scores were also fascinating. Harry couldn't read music but he could tell that the score was quite complex and the songs that were meant to be accompanied by the score were amazing.

"I can't believe this," Draco said to no one, "I can't believe he had this much talent. I knew he could paint but nothing like this!"

"The sheer number, there must be a hundred poems alone here! I'm not counting the songs he wrote either," Harry replied.

"This is Aidan," Draco said, softly, as if his voice would destroy the papers around him.

"How?"

"Every line in every stanza of all these poems is part of Aidan's soul. Every facet of his personality is represented around us." Draco ran his hand across the mountain of papers around him. "And memories fuel these words. Without memories," Draco whispered, "Aidan is nothing. If Aidan is nothing, then these poems are nothing. They will die without him. I can't afford to lose such a soul."

Draco and Harry knelt in silence, both wondering what made a small boy of five decide to release his anger, his loneliness, his confusion into lyrics and what made that boy continue to cleanse his soul in such a manner. It's a Pensieve, Harry thought, it's Aidan's Pensieve.

"Aha!" Draco hollered, "I have it!" Draco picked up a piece of paper and waved it around. "I should have thought of it before!"

"Thought of what? A piece of paper is not going to fully replace a wand," Harry remarked, standing up.

"No. But it tells me a likely location of the wand," Draco explained as he went for the door. Harry ran after him and grabbed his shoulder. "I'm not running away, Potter," Draco said as he shrugged off Harry's restraint.

"Well, where does Aidan say?"

"Read." Draco tossed the paper to Harry as they continued into another hallway. Harry recognized the poem on sight because he had read it before. A short memory of a father watching his son play...

"The piano," Harry gasped.

"Exactly. I had forgotten all about that but apparently it made a large impression on Aidan. I know precisely where to look now."

The pair sped down a shorter maze of corridors until they reached a fancy carved door labeled "Music Room". Draco opened the porcelain door handle and stepped inside. The room was not very large but it wasn't a tight squeeze either. There was a loveseat near the Mecca of the room, the grand piano with real ivory and ebony keys. The piano was as shiny as though it had been shipped in an hour before they had arrived. On the walls were a variety of stringed instruments held up by ancient enchantments; they too looked brand-new. Circling the room like ballet dancers on the barre were a grand assortment of other instruments, from the commonplace, like the tin whistle, to the exotic, like the sitar. Both men ignored these grand and most likely very expensive treasures and headed straight for the piano.

Harry first lifted the cover of the keys but there was nothing there. He sprinted madly to open the lid of the grand piano to peer into the depth filled with strings but there was nothing abnormal there either.

"Are you completely insane?" Draco asked as he easily lifted the lid of the piano seat. Contained were numerous piano scores, some were even written by Aidan himself but was no wand in sight. Draco was confident and flipped through the papers with a definite air of purpose. With a satisfied sigh, he lifted the middlemost score. He held it by the fold and let a velvet drawstring sack that was obviously holding two wands drop into his hand.

"Accio wands!" Harry said before Draco had chance to try anything illegal. The wands leapt into Harry's open palm. "Nice try, Malfoy." He opened the drawstring and showed the two wands for Draco's inspection. "Which is yours?"

"That one," Draco said, meaning to grab at the proper wand but Harry slipped it into a pocket of his robes.

"I'm not going to give it to you just yet."

"I'm authorized to use my wand now."

"At my discretion, Malfoy. So, right now, no, you don't." He put Aidan's wand back into the pouch as he asked, "How did you know it was that score you needed?"

Draco smiled and held the score out to Harry, who read the title.

Whoever wrote the selection played a very cruel joke on the Malfoy family because the piece was called, "The Lost Children."

"It was the song that Aidan was playing in the poem. My tutor assigned it to me when I was around ten. I could never play it correctly but somehow, Aidan had managed to bang it out on one try."

"Did he know?"

"I never told him. I think I just left it there and he managed to find it, years later. Impressive, isn't he? Neither Pansy nor I were musical in the slightest, I have no idea where he got it from." Harry didn't reply, he simply placed Aidan's wand back in the score and placed it on the top of the pile of papers.

"Alright. You have a change of clothes and your wand. Now, will you tell me where the Parkinson estate is so we can get your son and those Muggle-borns back?"

Draco rolled his eyes and exhaled through his nose. "I suppose. But we'll have a distance to walk since the land owned by the Parkinson family has a spell put on it so no one can Apparate on to it." Draco paused and then smirked, adding, "Like the noble Aurors did at their last estate so they could burn it down."

"They weren't cooperating, it was the last resort," Harry snapped back.

"Burning down a home? Very humane."

"More humane than your people ever did. We let them live and even cared for the ones that got burned. Case closed. Tell me where they are!"

"Alright, Potter, do you have a map in your possession?" Harry conjured up a map of the world while Draco made his specifications on the location of the Parkinson estate.

To be continued...

Author's Notes: Okay, why is Harry and Draco fighting so much fun to write? I was giggling the entire time I was writing it! That poem is so lame but I couldn't think of a better topic. Keep them in mind, though, because they are important.

Review! E-mail! Flame! Show me that someone is reading!

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	5. To Put to Sleep

Scorched Earth Policy

By Terra

Chapter Four: To Put to Sleep

"Men are what their mothers made them."-Ralph Waldo Emerson

*** ***

"Oh, I just love the landscape here," Harry said sarcastically, as he lit another fire on another man-eating plant that the Parkinson estate was surrounded by. "I simply must know who their gardener is!"

"No use complaining to me," Draco huffed as he kicked off another man-eating plant that Harry had missed when he went by. "I hate this as much as you." Harry twirled around and burnt the offending shrub to a crisp.

Obviously, the Parkinsons were very upset when the estate got demolished during the last Reign so they made sure that the way to the new home would be very taxing on someone if they desired to enter. The forest surrounding the estate was dense and dark. Trees had been deliberately knocked over to create obstacles, much to the men's annoyance. When Draco had last visited, as he explained, there had been a clear path for guests. Apparently, the Parkinson family only provided such an entrance when they wanted guests because no matter how many times they circled the forest, there was no opening.

Finding no other choice, they began hacking their way through the overgrown plants with a variety of spells on Harry's part and with bare hands on Draco's part. This lasted a good hour. Neither man would call it good if asked his opinion. Both of their nerves were strained to the point of snapping.

That's when Draco stood on the first man-eating plant. Actually, to be more precise, Draco's foot hovered near the plant and it grabbed him by the ankle. Draco didn't feel this tendril and had walked away with it still attached to him, dragging it for about twenty feet. This made the plant very angry and it grew spikes. It was at that moment Draco noticed that he had been dragging a dangerous plant on his ankle. Before Harry could do anything, the rest of the plant caught up and attacked Harry as well. It took the men ten minutes to finally kill the monster. As they walked on, they were despondent to find more plants like that one along with other varieties of very unpleasant plants.

After hexing the thousandth plant, Harry asked in irritation, "Malfoy? How big is this forest?"

Draco ripped apart a stray plant with his fingers before replying, "No idea, Potter."

"Malfoy, how long did it take you to go through the path?"

"An hour. But we weren't hacking through trees, weeds, or psychotic plants, so I guess my number won't help." Draco crushed a squirming plant with his boot. It squealed weakly. 

"Lovely décor, Parkinsons," Harry replied to an invisible family, "I must try it at home."

"And keep all your fans out? How cruel."

"Malfoy, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that so I don't have to FEED YOU TO AN ANGRY PLANT!"

"That wouldn't be very nice, Potter," Malfoy snapped back.

"I don't think anyone would mind your passing."

"My son would."

"Well, I'll just say that you died _tragically_ and I simply _couldn't_ save you."

"He wouldn't believe that."

"Yeah, too bad for him. I'd feel better though." 

Draco didn't reply and the two men continued to plod through the plant-infested hell that the Parkinson family had created.

At last, to the great relief of them both, the exit was in sight. Unfortunately, there was a massive wall of hungry, evil plants blocking it. Harry looked at Draco the very moment he looked at him. Harry came to his dreadful decision.

"Okay, Malfoy, I'll give you your wand but one false move, one little step to somewhere beyond the pale with it, I'm snapping it, stunning you and if I'm really mad, I'll feed you to the plants. Got it?"

"Precisely," Draco answered. Harry took out Draco's wand slowly, wishing he could buy more time, and handed it to Draco. Draco grinned madly when he gripped his wand. 

Draco whispered, "Charge!" Harry and Draco began an assault of hexes and curses at the dreadful plants until every single one was either immobilized or destroyed in some manner. Once they were outside the forest, they cracked a small smile at each other for a brief instant for getting back to business.

Once outside the forest, it was a flat, open lawn leading up to the large but plain Parkinson home. Harry had to give the Malfoy family credit; at least the ancestor who designed the current Manor had style. The mansion was built of boring grey stone and there were tiny windows dotted along the wall. Almost all the lights were out. There was a dismal flower garden under one wall of the home but it looked like a Christmas present in June. It didn't even have the strength or courage to be wild or full of weeds. 

Malfoy put his sentiments to words; "This place makes Raveneux look cheery, doesn't it?"

"I'd hate to live here. I'd kill myself out of depression." Harry paused as another thought occurred to him. "Speaking of Raveneux, I was told you were on medication. You don't need a dose right now or anything, do you?"

Draco gave a quiet laugh. "I grew immune. I'm between medications right now, so, no, I don't need anything."

"You sure?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Positive. Besides, wouldn't the doctor have said something when you released me if I needed something?"

Harry prayed to whoever was listening that Draco wasn't lying as he asked aloud, "So, Malfoy, how do we get in?"

"Well, I suppose we could barge in the front door and scream loudly, 'Hello there, we've come to rescue some Mudbloods and my son! How are you, Pansy? Has your liver dissolved yet?'" Draco joked. Harry didn't laugh so Draco replied seriously, "I suppose the back door should be fine. No one goes back there, at least, not when we visited. Fair warning, Potter, the Parkinsons like their house cold." Draco and Harry sneaked over to the back door, checked for any unwelcome wanderers, and finally, opened the door.

Liking their house cold was grave understatement. There was ten-degree difference from the pleasantly warm outside to the icy inside. They both gasped as the cold air hit them in their summer clothes. Harry quickly ducked into a nearby hallway with Draco in tow.

"Now what?" Harry whispered, peering around for anyone unpleasant.

"If I know the family, they'll have a dungeon. So, we have to go down a staircase." They dashed from shadow to shadow, holding their breath as they navigated their way along. They eventually reached a staircase but to their dismay, it only went up.

"We'll have to find another one," Harry said quietly.

"No, we'll have to cross a thousand rooms and with our luck, we'll end up slamming into someone unsavory. We'll go up and find a staircase that goes all the way down." Harry sighed as slowly tiptoed up the staircase with Draco following suit. It seemed to take ages to go up the long, winding spiral staircase. 

To Harry's slight relief, it was a touch warmer upstairs. It was very dark and the tiny windows did little to add light. 

"There's another staircase after the first turn on the right and the second turn on the left. I believe that's the one I was aiming for," Draco whispered, barely moving his lips.

"You better be right this time, Malfoy," Harry hissed back.

They were careful not to step too heavy on the planking of the floor and they winced when a creak escaped the floorboards. About halfway to staircase, they heard muttering. The muttering was getting closer. Harry and Draco looked at each other in alarm. Draco searched madly for an escape route. He found it in an unlocked room.

"In here," Draco mouthed, gently opening the door, guiding Harry inside. Draco quickly followed, muffling the sound of the door hitting the wall with his hand. Draco immediately turned the key stuck in the keyhole to lock it. They didn't dare to breathe in the dark as the voices came closer.

One voice, not older than eighteen, said, "Uncle Richard, I was really impressed by the Mobili Corpus you performed."

An older voice replied, "Years of training, Joshua, years of training."

"I can't believe you learned such a useful skill at that stupid school."

"Hogwarts? Well, it had its merits once. I would've loved to go to Durmstang, like you, Joshua."

"Huh, you don't even know German."

"You didn't until you went."

"I learned the basics before I left, Uncle Richard. Anyway, what I want to know is how you were able to carry twenty-five subjects at one time. I can barely manage three."

"Well, my dear boy..." The voices faded away as their footsteps hit the spiraling staircase leading downwards. The two men released the breath they had been holding. They still didn't speak, for fear that their voices might carry through the door. Harry swore his heartbeat could be heard throughout the house and put his hand over his chest in an attempt to muffle it.

"I think they're gone," Draco whispered.

"I think they're gone," a light voice replied.

Draco's eyes opened in shock and Harry's hand began to sweat. For all they knew, they could have stumbled into a young girl's room. Obviously, the Parkinsons had other children living here so it wasn't impossible. Harry turned to face towards the inside of the room.

It was pitch black and there was no window. He couldn't make out anything in the room. 

"Who's there?" Harry asked.

"Who's there," the feeble voice mimicked.

"I know that voice," Draco gasped.

"I know that voice," the hidden voice answered.

"Lumos." Draco's wand blinked on slowly after years of disuse and scanned the room. The light revealed no bed, no tables, no mirrors, nothing that is usually in a room. Finally, the light hit the pale face of Narcissa Malfoy.

"My God!" Draco whispered and ran to kneel by his mother.

"My God," Narcissa answered emotionless. 

"How did you get here?" Draco demanded in a choked voice.

"How did you get here," Narcissa repeated as Draco checked for bonds or forms of restraint. There was nothing.

"I thought you were dead," Draco choked out, on the verge of tears.

"I thought you were dead," Narcissa said in monotone.

"Well, I'm not dead, obviously."

"Well, I'm not dead, obviously."

"Of course not."

"Of course not."

Harry cast Lumos himself to get a better look at her. She was wearing an old lacy robe, which looked like she had been wearing it for some time. She was bitterly thin and pale, as if she had not seen daylight in years. Her eyes were glazed over, almost looking blind. The eyes held nothing in them. No thought, no feeling, nothing at all. She barely held her head up; it was slightly craning to the side. Her hair was in some sort of bun and a few clumps of hair were falling out. Her bony arms were positioned on the armrest of the plain wooden chair she was sitting on. To Harry, she looked like a weird parody of a posed porcelain doll. Harry noticed an element very odd as he continued to examine her. Her feet didn't touch the floor. The hem of her robe ended a few inches above the dusty wooden floor. Narcissa was not a short woman, her feet should have easily touched the floor. Furthermore, why was a woman of noble breeding and pride sitting in the dark on a chair that did not restrict her and not escaping or crying out for help?

Draco was continuing to speak to her when Harry put his hand on his shoulder. 

"Move for a second," Harry ordered softly.

"Move for a second," Narcissa repeated. Draco obediently moved aside as Harry knelt beside the posed woman in Draco's place.

"What is your name?" Harry asked.

"What is your name," Narcissa replied.

"Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter."

"How many children do you have?"

"How many children do you have."

"I have two children. One girl and one boy."

"I have two children. One girl and one boy."

"My daughter's name is Chloe Grace. My son's name is James Albus."

"My daughter's name is Chloe Grace. My son's name is James Albus."

"I like to eat people."

"I like to eat people."

"Babies are good with carrots."

"Babies are good with carrots."

"Stop it!" Draco hissed.

"Stop it," Narcissa sighed.

"Malfoy," Harry said with as much sympathy as he could muster, "she's has no idea what she is saying." Harry rubbed the woman's cold hand as she repeated his words. "Obviously, they have tried the Memory Charm before now."

"I can't believe this," Draco moaned as he paced around the room, "My own mother. My own son. Why are they doing this?" Narcissa mindlessly repeated him without emotion.

"Who knows, Malfoy, who knows?" Harry glanced as the shell of the proud woman that once was Narcissa Malfoy. She was reduced to a posed doll. "But where are her feet?" Harry whispered. Harry touched the hem of the robe. Nothing. "That's odd." He tapped the area above the hemline. Nothing, only cloth. Harry began to feel horrified. "Malfoy, get over here." Narcissa's voice brought Draco's attention back to Harry. He glided over and knelt beside him.

"What?"

"Touch the material here and tell me what you feel," Harry ordered. Draco rolled his eyes but he tapped the cloth and his eyes grew wide as he met no resistance.

"Nothing. Just cloth." Draco and Harry together ran their hands up the bottom of the robe dangling off the chair and neither could feel a leg. Harry was beginning to feel sick.

"They cut her lower leg off. I can see her knee still, Malfoy."

Draco was speechless, he just gripped the robe in his fist.

"That's why she isn't running," Harry said to himself aloud. "That's terrible. I don't love your family, but this is just bloody cruel." 

"It's sick, is what it is," Draco nearly screeched, "We never maimed our own kind. She's a pureblood, dammit! Muggles, I can understand, but not my own mother!" Narcissa quietly echoed her son in monotone. Harry nearly began a screaming match over the question of the rights of Muggles not to be tortured but it wasn't worth the effort. 

"There's not much we can do now, Malfoy," Harry said in a comforting tone. Insane or not, seeing a loved one in her condition was pretty brutal. "What's done is done."

"Exactly," Draco whispered over his mother repeating Harry's words. "I must make sure this doesn't happen to Aidan."

"Let's go," Harry suggested, patting Draco's shoulder. He didn't want to look at the broken figure anymore. Draco nodded as he slowly stood up as Harry went to unlock the door. Harry slowly opened the door and checked to anyone unpleasant. The hall was dark and empty once more. Harry held the door as Draco exited the room, his eyes angry and haunted at the same time. 

They darted from corner to corner until they nearly reached the staircase. Just as Harry was about to run towards it, Draco stopped him.

"What?" Harry mouthed at him.

"Forgot my wand back there. I'll need it," Draco hissed back.

Harry could have strangled Draco for that. "Stupid... go. I'll be here, waiting. No funny stuff."

"I don't want to get caught here either." Draco slunk back into the shadows and crept back to the room where his mother was held. Harry held his breath as he waited. Any minute now, he thought, someone is going to come up the stairs and everyone will be finished. A few seconds of waiting later, the image of Draco breaking apart the vicious plant jumped into Harry's mind. He's pretty strong, Harry remarked silently. A shiver went down his spine.

"He wouldn't," Harry gasped. "Oh, God, I'm an idiot." Harry ran as quickly and as stealthily as he could back to the prison of Narcissa Malfoy. The door was open a crack and just Harry's hand touched the doorknob, he heard a sickening snap. Then he heard the sound of someone gathering a wand and walking towards the door. Draco walked confidently out.

"You didn't," Harry replied.

"Didn't what?" Draco asked, playing innocent.

"I can't believe this," Harry ducked into the dark room and ran to the prone Narcissa, still in her chair. Her neck was undoubtedly broken. "You killed her."

"I put her out of her misery," Draco corrected.

"You killed your own mother, Malfoy!" Harry hissed back.

"I saved my mother from her torment."

"You killed a defenseless person."

"She was as good as dead, Potter." 

"You didn't have to finish the job!" Harry growled. "That's murder, do you understand?"

"She didn't feel a thing."

"You don't know that!"

"What's done is done."

Harry was in utter shock. "You have absolutely no shame or guilt, do you?"

"I did the right thing!"

"You committed murder in the first degree. You murdered your mother, the one that gave you your miserable life. Without a care, you just took her life away."

"She would've wanted that way."

"I doubt she wanted to die, Malfoy!"

"I doubt she wanted to continue living as a mindless vegetable. Neither does my son."

Harry nearly screamed in frustration, "Would you kill your son, too?"

"If it came to that. I did what I know she would have wanted to me to do. If you don't understand that," Draco concluded, heading back towards the door, shrugging, "I'm sorry. We don't have time to argue about it anyway. We have defenseless children to save, don't we, Potter?"

As Harry exited the room, he felt a blob of paint fall on his nose.

To be continued... 

Author's Notes: Just when you thought I made Draco a nice guy, I had to throw that one on you. You know, in real life, I'm a happy person. I don't know why I think of stuff like this. Whatever. 

Review me or e-mail me! I'll read them, really and truly!

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	6. I Believe in Yesterday

Scorched Earth Policy

By Terra

Chapter Five: I Believe in Yesterday

"Isn't it better to forget bad memories?" –Jonouchi in episode two of "Boogiepop Phantom" titled "Portraits in Darkness"

*** ***

Aidan's watch was broken.

He made this enlightening discovery after he had been thrown in a cell with twelve unconscious Muggle-borns. The other twelve captives were in another dreary prison. How he envied them. He wished he was asleep but he was wide-awake, alert for any change in the air, as he sat cross-legged in front of the iron door. He wished he knew what time it was but of course, this was impossible. There was a tiny window behind him, far above his head. It was approaching dusk. What would he be doing now? Probably figuring out what the House Elves should make for dinner, and someone would propose a quick Quidditch match before food was served. 

Aidan didn't play on the Quidditch team at school. It wasn't because he wasn't good enough (everyone he knew corrected him when he said so); it was something more complex. Harry Potter had been the Gryffindor Seeker, and Draco Malfoy had been Slytherin Seeker, back in the day. Aidan was, surprisingly, in Gryffindor and everyone wanted him to be Seeker. If Aidan became the Gryffindor Seeker, like Harry Potter had years before, it would be a slap in the face to his father. He simply couldn't play under those conditions. 

"Where are we?" A sleepy, confused voice behind Aidan asked.

"In the sweet land of lollipops and sugar fairies," Aidan replied with a wry smile.

"Oh," the voice that belonged to Robert, a fourth-year Hufflepuff, sighed, "I need my eyes checked then."

"Seriously, though," Aidan corrected, "I know we're in a dungeon of some sort but I don't know where." Behind him, there were sounds of the other teenagers stirring. Welcome to my nightmare, Aidan thought.

"You have absolutely no clue?" A young second-year Ravenclaw named Gracia sniffled as she asked.

"Well, I have a _guess_ but that won't help us."

A small third-year Gryffindor piped up, "So, what do you think they're going to do?"

Aidan didn't answer at first. He knew his family; he had researched both Reigns of Lord Voldemort extensively. He didn't want to tell them but to deny them knowledge would not help their situation. Aidan finally turned around to face his current cellmates. "Yes, I have some idea what they plan. One, they want to do a full Memory Charm on me."

"But why?" A fifth-year Hufflepuff girl demanded.

"Think about it, Marcia," a sixth-year Slytherin named Eric hissed, "look at him. He's a Malfoy, no offense, but his family used to be big shots for the Dark Lord, am I right?" Aidan nodded glumly. "There you go. They obviously want him back on their side. He's sympathetic to us 'Mudbloods'; he won't help them now."

"My experiences have changed my life view, in a way. They want me back the way I was," Aidan added, "as a five year old."

"You'll be a five year old in a fifteen year old body! It'll be maddening!"

Aidan shivered. Man, it would be a shock to suddenly find himself ten years older and a beloved father in an insane asylum. "They obviously haven't considered that or don't care."

The Muggle-borns sat as they contemplated having their last ten years erased. Aidan noticed one of the second-year Gryffindors, Marie, shivering in the back. 

"What's wrong, Marie?" Aidan asked. She just curled up tighter. This was odd; nothing fazed Marie. He had watched this fire-starter punch a third-year Slytherin in the nose the first week of school in the Great Hall for teasing her poorer best friend whose name escaped him at the moment of recollection. 

"Uh…" A shy fifth-year Hufflepuff named Emily stuttered, "she got hit."

"Hit? As in punched?" Aidan inquired, scanning her face for a bruise. Nothing.

"No," Eric muttered, "Crucio."

Aidan's heart stopped. He had felt the Crucio only once. He had not knocked on the door to the study and ran right in to ask his father something. Without looking up, his father cursed him. It was brief, only the time allotted to blinking an eye, but it was intense. His father had profusely apologized to him when he realized that he was torturing his own son, explaining he thought he was someone else and he promised that it would never happen again. He had only been three years old.

"How long?" Aidan asked, shuddering at the memory.

"About a full minute," Eric explained, "she was right by me. Saw the whole thing. They dragged her out of the library along with me. She tried fighting back, screaming and kicking and all that, but…" he trailed off, searching for words to continue, "it didn't really work. They pinned her down and did it quickly first. But she recovered fast and started up again. Then they sustained it. I heard one say, 'to teach the Mudblood a lesson'." Marie gave a frightened cry. Aidan went over to the broken child and held her in his arms. Everyone huddled around close, to provide Marie proof of protection as she wailed into Aidan's green Muggle-style tee-shirt.

Aidan was now determined to find a way out. He scanned the door. The door was rather ordinary. It was deadly smooth. There was a slot that resembled a mail slot in a regular door in a regular home. There was no sign of a lock. Suddenly, they heard foot steps.

Aidan's heart lifted. Chloe got help! He was going to buy her anything she wanted for this wonderful deed! He heard the door unlock and in stepped Crabbe and Goyle.

"Up," Crabbe grunted. The teenagers fell off Aidan like leaves as he stood up. He wasn't afraid of his father's former lackeys. Father always told him that Crabbe and Goyle didn't have a brain cell between them.

"I'm up," Aidan answered with the air of spoiled royal prince, crossing his arms as he did so. "What do you want?"

"Move," Goyle demanded in the manner a gorilla would if one could talk.

"Where are you moving me?" Aidan asked, angry at himself for letting a hint of fear creep into his voice. 

"Move," was Crabbe's only reply. He dragged himself into the cramped cell as the closest friends latched on to Aidan's feet to prevent his removal. Crabbe kicked at the attached bodies around Aidan. Like ghosts, they slowly drifted away into the corners, some quietly moaning. They knew that it was most likely the last time they would ever see their Aidan.

Crabbe used his beefy fist to pull Aidan by his shirt. Aidan made the trip as difficult as possible by planting his feet firmly at intervals, an echo of Chloe's merry backwards skipping up the stairs ten years before. They went three cells away, at the end of the dark corridor. Goyle, his hands free, used a heavy key to unlock it. The door whined open, revealing an empty cell. Before Aidan could blink, Crabbe threw him inside like a bag of trash. Aidan noticed the floor was cold when his face slammed into it. Before Aidan recovered, the door banged shut, leaving Aidan alone in the dark. 

Aidan lay on his stomach for a minute. "I am _not_ going to cry," he told himself aloud fiercely. "I _refuse_ to cry in the this situation." Aidan pulled himself up to his hands knees (both now bleeding from crashing on to a stone floor) and looked up at the sad, little window above his head. It was dark outside now. Stars shone weakly through the scattered clouds. Somewhere out there in the heavens was his father's favorite constellation: Draco the Dragon. There was no star named Aidan, he thought, or Pansy. Pansy is a flower, so she gets some fame. 

Aidan righted himself so he was in a sitting position, bringing his scratched knees to his cut chin. He smiled. "To be five again. To be Father's right hand man again. Strange how innocent I was as my father planned such awful things. I never understood," he sighed as a stray tear escaped his tear duct. "I still don't."

*** ***

"Aidan, come look at these!" Chloe squealed as she stared at the puppies in the window. "I want one."

"Don't you already have one?" Aidan replied, smiling. 

"I know, silly. But I want another one, just for a day."

"I don't think they rent out dogs."

Chloe sighed, "I know. Daddy always said he'd get me another one but then James came…"

"I thought you liked your little brother," Aidan asked, having fun watching the white puppy jump at his finger outside the window.

"I do but he's ten now and he thinks he's _so_ much smarter than I am! He thinks he's God or something."

"All hail Lord James," Aidan chanted. Chloe giggled.

"Don't say that around him! You'll encourage him." Chloe moved away from the pet shop window.

"Amen," Aidan sang.

"Stop!" Chloe laughed. "He was really annoying this morning!"

"Oh? What did your beloved James do today?"

"He was like," Chloe mimicked her brother, "'So, are you going to kiss your _boyfriend_ today, huh?'"

"But I am your boyfriend."

"So? He doesn't have proof. I don't want Daddy freaking out or anything." Chloe dabbed at her eyes with an imaginary handkerchief, imitating her father, "'My Angel is all grown up!' I don't need that."

Aidan didn't answer. Chloe looked up at him, worried. "Not that it would be a _bad_ thing if I told everyone, Aidan."

Aidan became very interested in the cracks on the sidewalk. "Aidan?"

"Hm? I'm listening."

"Aidan," Chloe started, obviously wondering how to phrase her question, "you're not _scared_ of my daddy, are you?"

Aidan shrugged. Terrified was the word he would use.

"He's not going to bite you, Aidan!" Chloe joked.

"I don't think he likes me very much," Aidan mumbled.

"Don't be dumb, my daddy likes you."

"At arm's length, yeah. I don't think he'd be thrilled for me to be dating you."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Aidan, you're imagining things. My daddy likes you fine."

"He's just being nice."

"Aidan," Chloe became serious in her tone as she continued, "you're not your father. The whole world knows it."

"Not the whole world, Chloe. Only the precious few."

Chloe groaned, "Aidan, we've been over this!" Aidan didn't respond so Chloe grunted in distaste. "Let's just drop this conversation, okay?"

"Okay," Aidan murmured. "You want ice cream?"

Chloe's eyes lit up. "Yes! I want a cone!" 

Aidan laughed. "How old are you, again?"

"Five ywears old!" Chloe lisped back, holding up five fingers.

"I swore it was fifteen." Aidan replied as they walked into the ice cream parlor. Chloe immediately went for the spinning chair in front. Aidan calmly sat beside her to prove how mature he was before he started bursting into giggles and spinning around as well.

Aidan and Chloe enjoyed their Muggle outings. No one knew them; they were just two teens on the town. People didn't stare or whisper behind their hands. No one in Muggle London knew that their fathers were bitter enemies. No one even realized that Aidan's father was in locked up because, among other things, he kidnapped the brown-haired girl beside him, who was spinning herself silly, at five years old. No one knew their faces, no one knew their names, and no one cared. This was their ideal dating locale. 

Aidan smiled as he heard an older woman say to her friend, "Ah, look at those two. To be young and in love again."

"They look so cute together."

"Like a picture."

Chloe smiled back at Aidan, obviously she heard as well. This was paradise. The picture would never be taken because the Daily Prophet didn't make rounds in Muggle London. 

"What do you want, Chloe?" Aidan asked, scanning the choices himself.

"Haven't decided. You?"

"Well, I'm leaning towards… the maple syrup swirl but the apple crisp looks good too."

"Get both. Double scoop, you know? I'm getting… black raspberry and key lime."

"I don't think I could get a double scoop…"

"Live a little! I know you have the money," Chloe whispered, "I'll pay for myself if it's a problem."

Aidan shook his head quickly. "No, not at all. It's my treat." He turned to the worker and ordered a cone with a scoop of maple syrup swirl with a scoop of apple crisp and a cone with a scoop of black raspberry with a scoop of key lime.

"In sugar cones!" Chloe added as the employee opened the freezers in front of him. 

"In sugar cones," Aidan repeated with a smile. "You're going to be sick."

"But what a way to go, Aidan, what a way to go."

The worker asked Chloe, in what Aidan supposed he thought was a sexy way, "So, you from around here?"

"Not far," Chloe answered smiling. 

"So, is he, like, your cousin or something?" He continued in a deep husky voice, which was obviously put on. Aidan bit his tongue to stop himself from laughing.

"No," Chloe sighed, taking Aidan's hand. The light in her eyes told him that she was gearing up for a huge prank. "He's my lover," Chloe replied in a very seductive way. 

"What?" Aidan asked but then caught on to the joke and amended, "Darlin', people aren't supposed to know."

"But, sweetums, I want the world to know about…" Chloe paused for dramatic effect and said deeply, "us."

It took Aidan all his control not to burst out laughing. Chloe continued in the same throaty voice, "Especially that thing you do when…"

"Okay!" the boy squeaked. Apparently, his husky voice took a manly hike, "I'm sorry I asked! I don't want to know about… whatever." The frightened flirt quickly finished their cones and Aidan rolled his lips into his mouth to prevent his smile from showing as he paid.

Chloe skipped out of the parlor into the street as Aidan followed began to chuckle. "You are so evil, Chloe."

"Come on. He deserved it. Hitting on a girl when she's obviously on a date. Like I'd be interested in a dork like him when I have you?" Chloe turned around and added, "But don't call me 'darlin'' again. That sounded weird coming out of your mouth."

"What about 'sweetums', Chloe? I was just playing along. I could have died at that last part."

"What?" Chloe asked, her eyes all innocent, "I was going to say that thing you do when you're embarrassed. Like now."

Aidan coughed. "What do I do?"

"Your eyelashes flutter for a brief second before you blush. I just find that so _cute_."

"What kind of cute?"

"Puppy dog cute," Chloe replied as she began licking her ice cream.

"'Puppy dog cute'? I'm _manly_. You're supposed to swoon, not…" Aidan searched for the right words, "giggle."

"I'll swoon later, when I don't have something in my hands." Chloe smirked.

"I'm not a puppy."

"I know, Aidan. You're _manly_, right?"

"You're catching on."

"You're as manly as Meg," Chloe snickered.

"I am not!"

"You're less manly than her, then?"

"You know what I mean, Chloe," Aidan grumbled. They walked along the street in silence until Chloe piped up, "I still think it's cute anyway, regardless of what kind of cute."

Chloe stopped to gaze at the latest Muggle fashion piece. Aidan awkwardly put his free hand around her shoulder. She leaned into him with a brief sigh. Aidan stared at their dark reflection in the store window. Chloe was wearing a purple tank top with a huge daisy embroidered on it with dazzling white shorts. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail with a tiny purple ribbon and the breeze was gently blowing a few hairs out of place. Aidan was dressed in a green tee-shirt with beige shorts. They both studied the image of them eating ice cream.

"We do look like a picture," Chloe whispered. 

"I need a hair cut," Aidan concluded bluntly.

Chloe laughed, "I'm trying to be serious here!"

"But I do, Chloe," Aidan said in his defense.

"You should grow it long," Chloe remarked, pulling herself out of his arms. 

"Long? On me?"

"It would be cool. Rebellious."

"Rebellious? It would be dumb."

"Let's go to the park," Chloe suggested, "so we can sit and talk." 

The park was not far away and they graciously sat on the nearest park bench, eating their ice cream.

"Speaking of hair," Chloe said between licks, "I'm thinking about dying my hair red."

"Red? What for?"

"Because I want to. Meg wants to dye it brown. We want to see if anyone would notice."

"I think her father would notice a red-haired girl leaving the house and then returning with brown hair. He might have a coronary."

"It's just hair, Aidan."

"I know but her father might not see it that way." 

"Well, if it was up to you, what do you think?"

Aidan idly played with her hair before replying, "I like it brown."

"Brown is so boring. At least blond is eye-catching in a crowd."

"Blond hair is the bane of my life. Reporters find me faster that way. They know Malfoys have blond hair."

Chloe lapsed into silence. She leaned against him as they watched some children fly a kite. It crashed three times before Aidan broke the silence, "Hey, Chloe?"

"Yeah?" Chloe replied lazily.

"What would you think if I changed my name?" Chloe sat up, perplexed.

"Changed your name? What do you mean?"

"Like, officially change my name to something else."

"But why? What's wrong with your name?"

"The last part. Malfoy."

"I don't understand."

"I'm branded, Chloe. I'm stuck answering for the Malfoy family's sins. People think I'm like my ancestors. Everyone…" Chloe gave him a dirty look. Aidan corrected himself, "_Most_ people give me the fish-eye when I introduce myself. 'Oh, you're a _Malfoy_. Here comes trouble.' It's always been like that. It makes everything so hard."

"You just have to prove them wrong," Chloe replied, patting his shoulder.

"But… if I could get rid of the name," Aidan concluded, "I could start getting away from the terrible past." Aidan looked into Chloe's worried eyes and added sadly, "I could be with you anytime I wished."

*** ***

The scenery flashed by outside Aidan's window. The chugging of the Hogwarts Express filled the deafening sound of silence in Aidan's solitary section. His face leaned against the crystal-clear chilling glass and hummed softly to himself. Aidan was used to this treatment, sitting alone, by himself. Even before… all that, he had spent his childhood in isolation. It wasn't new. But it didn't hurt any less.

Father had told him during his last visit that he was big boy now but Aidan still felt tiny. He still had nightmares about the trial. For the past couple of months, he had nightmares about this day: attending his first year at Hogwarts. Many children looked forward to their career in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but Aidan didn't. He knew the reaction of his fellow peers. Every member in every house would be crossing his or her fingers; _don't let him in here, don't let the madman's son in my house_. He understood what werewolves must feel like the rest of the month, when the moon is only a crescent. He was still with unerring fear. He knew the truth. Funny, how a name falls out of favor. His father had complete confidence in himself his first year because he was a Malfoy; Aidan was in terror because he was also a Malfoy.

He could have read a book but he didn't. He could have eaten from the cart but he didn't. So he blankly stared out the window, counting down the miles between the train and the school, waiting, just waiting, for the hammer to fall. If he was lucky, maybe it would knock the name from him.

*** ***

"Malfoy, Aidan." Professor Granger-Weasley called out without emotion. The Great Hall hushed at the sound of the name. Some Muggle-borns asked the nearby old-timers to explain the need for silence but they were quickly told to start praying. Aidan shakily walked out of the line of first years. He shivered partly from the cold rain that had beaten upon them, partly because of the silence.

His hands were sweating but Aidan just clasped them together to hide his worry. He wanted to puke. All these people, just staring, most in distaste. He saw a Ravenclaw prefect cross her fingers and her mouth was moving quickly. A Hufflepuff prefect was doing the sign of the cross and was clearly praying. The Gryffindor table looked disinterested; a Malfoy couldn't possibly hope to enter their ranks so there was no need to worry. The Slytherin table frightened him the most; they were almost licking their lips in anticipation. They reminded him strongly of the demons during the trial in his nightmares. He was surprised they didn't start cackling.

He was clearly trembling and Aidan knew it. He hated this. He wanted to go home and hide from these scary, hateful people. His hand gripped the stool and it wobbled. Was it trying to wriggle away from him? He took a shaky breath and climbed up on to the three-legged gallows they called a stool. The professor took the old, dirty Sorting Hat on his blond, freshly cut hair.

It didn't seem to speak to him; it seemed to find the passage from the ears to the brain too time-consuming and blared from his brain. "Ah, another Malfoy."

Aidan thought back, "Yes… sir… ma'am…"

"Polite, aren't you? You're harder to read than your father. Slytherin all the way; no other options were open to the lad. You're bright but you're not ambitious like he was."

"I guess not."

"You have suffered greatly, haven't you? Very strong and hearty. Brave."

"No, I'm not. I'm a coward."

It seemed to laugh in his skull. "My goodness, do you know Neville Longbottom said the very same thing? Are you sure you're not his son?"

"I'm sure."

"Yes, there's only one place for you as there was for him…" the voice left his brain and shouted directly to the crowd, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Aidan felt the cold air hit his scalp as the hat was whisked off his head. The hand of the Professor tapped him off the stool and he nearly fell flat on his face from fright. The Sorting Hat had placed him in _Gryffindor_. He would be murdered! Malfoys didn't belong in Gryffindor! The Gryffindors were in utter shock. It was unheard, unbelievable, foolish. The laws of nature had been turned on their heads. The son of a mad Death Eater had wound up in Gryffindor, the home of the good and brave. A few of the recent residents of the Manor, however, politely congratulated their young landlord on his selection to the scarlet and gold ranks. 

Aidan remained in absolute fright. Chloe Potter was in his year. The little girl whose father took his father away. Sure, his father had been sick regardless but she had been the catalyst. Right on schedule she ended up in…

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Luckily, someone had been called before her so he didn't have to sit by her. Chloe glanced at him once but quickly averted her eyes to her cousin, Meg he later learned, and Aidan remained silent.

*** ***

To most people's dismay, no one tried killing Aidan in his sleep. Everyone was holding his or her breath, waiting for Aidan to do something devilish, like set another Basilik loose. Aidan went to the library to avoid the stares and whispers. It was one peculiar Friday in his usual routine was altered forever.

Aidan sat in his usual corner, far in the back on the floor, near the Invisibility Section, reading _Garbled Tongues and Other Nonsense: An Overview of Special Talents in the Magical World_ for the seventh time when someone walked over to him: Chloe. The two had never spoken since Chloe's "vacation" in the Manor and even then, neither remembered the exact details of the dialogue. Aidan had spent most of his time avoiding her gaze and running to a different room to avoid her. Aidan had no escape; he was driven, literally, into a corner. Maybe if I ignore her, Aidan thought madly, she'll go away. Chloe remained planted in her position, her shadow looming over his small, curled up frame. Neither spoke. Aidan gripped the book. Go away, go away, I don't want trouble.

After a long moment, Chloe turned slightly to stand at his left side. Aidan didn't have time to wonder before Chloe kicked him quite violently in his side. Aidan bowled over in pain as Chloe quickly ran off. Aidan lay there gasping until he was shooed out and ordered to bed.

Aidan became very frightened when Chloe returned the next day. Aidan nearly got up. "If you want this corner…"

"I don't want this corner. I want to talk to you."

This caught him off guard. "About?"

Chloe shrugged. "Anything. I don't care."

Aidan couldn't stop himself from asking, "Why did you kick me yesterday?"

"To make us even."

"Even?"

"Yeah," Chloe replied, sitting against the bookshelf beside Aidan, "I remember when I was little, you kicked me. I thought maybe you felt bad about that and that's why you never spoke to me. If I kicked you back, that makes us even. Now, we can start fresh, like strangers." Chloe held out her hand and said sweetly, "Hi, I'm Chloe Potter. What's your name?"

Aidan bit his lip. Was this a joke? Aidan looked into her eyes; she seemed nice enough. He shyly took her outstretched hand and shook it. "I'm Aidan Malfoy."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Aidan."

"Why are you doing this?" Aidan asked. He wasn't going to be the butt of a prank if he could help it.

Chloe frowned. "Introducing myself?"

"Pretending to want to be my friend."

"I'm not pretending."

"Go away," Aidan snapped before returning to his book, the same he had been reading the day before. Aidan waited for Chloe to leave, realize that her joke had fallen flat. Instead, Chloe said, "So… what's your favorite color?"

Aidan lifted his head. "My what?"

"Favorite color. Mine's blue."

"Green."

"Do you like to read?"

"Yes."

"What's your favorite book?"

"_A Tale of Two Cities_."

"Really? Isn't that really depressing?"

"I found it very realistic." Aidan suddenly realized that he was going to be tricked again. "Are you done now?"

"Done? With what?"

"Teasing me. Go play with the rest of the Gryffindors."

"I am," Chloe laughed, "You're a Gryffindor."

"Leave me alone," Aidan moaned. He was close to tears. Couldn't he be lonely in peace?

"Aidan," Chloe explained softly, "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because… no one else will."

"Doesn't that tell you something?"

"Yeah, that you must be really lonely. Aren't you sick of being by yourself, Aidan?"

"No, I like it this way," Aidan lied, burying his face back into the book.

"I don't think so. Don't you ever want to talk to someone?"

"No," Aidan replied softly. 

"Never?"

"Never."

"That's a lie."

Aidan would never be able to explain what came over him but he threw the book out of the corner and hissed, "Fine! It's a lie! I'm lonely and I'd love to have a friend but things don't go my way! It's not easy when the entire world hates you! Now, go back to the people who adore you and leave me to sit here by myself, back to where we both belong!" Aidan felt tears stinging his eyes. He curled up into a ball to hide his gradually wetter eyes. Chloe didn't move. "Well, go!"

"Go where?"

"Back to the common room."

"And leave you here?" Aidan nodded. Chloe sighed and got up. Aidan pulled his knees up tighter. Good, now he could forget how lonely he felt. He heard a book sliding into one of the shelves. Someone sat next to him again. Chloe had merely gotten up to put the book back into place.

"Why are you still here?"

"Aidan, you seriously think I'd just leave to let you cry by yourself?"

"It would be the sensible thing to do."

"It would be the mean thing to do, Aidan. It's unfair how everyone's been treating you, especially in the common room. You're a Gryffindor, too!"

"The Sorting Hat screwed up."

"The Sorting Hat is never wrong. Aidan," Chloe said, patting his shoulder, "I want to be friends with you."

"Why?" Aidan added feebly, "I don't like you."

Chloe smiled as if she had heard this before. "That's okay. I like you."

*** ***

Aidan ran down the dark halls. He squealed when he slid across the wooden polished floors in his woolen socks. When he reached his father's office, he quickly slowed his steps and stopped squealing. He had to play this part right. He simply had to convince Father that he was a mature five-year-old.

Aidan rapped on the heavy door. An irritated voice from within boomed out, "Enter."

Aidan stood on tiptoes to turn the knob and pushed open the door. A fire roared in the giant fireplace and monstrous couches crouched like tigers in front of it. The book case resembled a tree in the rain forest to the small child. Aidan promptly wiped the grin from his face; mature people didn't smile. He also made sure he placed his hands behind his back, just like Father did. Aidan was sure he looked very, _very_ grown-up. He made an attempt to glide over to the desk where his father was doing "Very Important Adult Things" as Aidan thought of it but he only managed to shuffle his feet. 

Aidan waited. Children, no matter how mature, never spoke before they were directly addressed by an adult. Aidan kept reminding himself not to fidget because properly brought up people never, ever fidget. They stood still, unfazed by the wait. Regardless, Aidan's feet rebelled and he rocked back and forth as his father finished whatever crucially important task he was working on. His father looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Aidan immediately stopped rocking but it was too late. His father gave him a crooked smile and continued to ignore him. If Aidan had been allowed to speak, he would have whimpered because now his father was just going to stall to teach Aidan the correct way to act.

Very slowly, he finished writing on the very adult-looking document. He painstakingly checked, double-checked, and triple-checked all his work. He then gathered the papers, put them together one by one, tapped them against the table, looked carefully to make all the papers were even, bounded them together with a spell, flipped through the papers once again, and finally set the papers aside. His father then re-capped the ink well and cleaned off the quill he had been using before putting them both in their holders. He sighed, finding nothing else to stall with, and turned to his son. "Yes, Aidan?"

If Aidan hadn't been so intent on acting mature, he would have fallen over from exhaustion. Aidan, remembering his mission, remained upright. "Father, I have a question."

"Go ahead, Aidan. I'm listening." His father stared at his son with an unwavering stare. Aidan nearly shook with fright but adults don't do that so he didn't either.

"Father," Aidan said in a very mature voice, "Something just occurred to me today."

"What is that, Aidan?" Before his son could reply, Draco got out of his swivel chair, telling his son, "Hold on. Father has to take care of something." Aidan heard him mutter, "Damned rats."

Aidan's head followed his father but no matter how hard he looked, there were no rats. Aidan shrugged. It was a grown-up thing, he told himself, that's why I can't see them. Aidan watched his father hexed at the carpet (sorry, the rats that only fathers could see). Aidan barely blinked; he had seen this before. After his father had exterminated all the creatures, he smoothed out his hair, mumbled, "All gone" and returned to his seat. "As you were saying, Aidan?"

"Yes, Father. I remembered a story you told me some time ago."

"What story?"

"The one story about when you first went down Knockturn Alley with your father," Aidan explained. His father's eyes became misty at the mention of his late grandfather; Father never really got over his death.

"Why do you bring this up?"

"I was wondering how old you were at the time, would you tell me?" Aidan asked but secretly hoped that his father had caught the hint. Aidan already knew the age but he wanted his father to figure it out.

"I was five years old. What relevancy does this have…? Oh," his father breathed, finally understanding his son's question. "You're five now, aren't you?"

It took Aidan all his might not to nod vigorously like a toddler. Instead, he replied calmly, "Yes, Father." Aidan stood a little straighter to appear taller as his father digested this information.

"I bet you would like to go as well."

"Only if you wish."

His father leaned back into his chair. "Five already? My, you grew up faster than I thought. Ah, well, no time to reminiscence about all that." His father gestured him to come closer. "Let me look at you." Aidan took a big step forwards as his father glared at him. "Yes, you are going up nicely. Not a stitch of your mother on your face, I was worried about that."

"So," Aidan asked, forgetting to act mature, "can I go?"

"No. It's too far to walk." His father laughed at his son's crest-fallen face. "May you go?"

"Oh!" Aidan replied, understanding, "May I go?"

"Yes, you may. When would you like to go?" Aidan shrugged. "Perhaps, next week?"

*** ***

The words rang in Aidan's head. 

Next week. 

Father turned out to be busy that week, didn't he? Aidan thought bitterly. Busy with _another_ five-year-old. _Completely_ forgot about his son's request. 

Aidan shook his head. He couldn't still be angry about that. It was better that way, not to go to Knockturn Alley, not to enter the Dark Arts.

Aidan tried to remember that little boy from long ago. It was like looking at someone else. Strange. He couldn't go back to all that. Just trying to enter the mindset of the little child made his skin crawl.

"I'm glad she's going to die," Aidan whispered aloud, remembering the anger of being tossed aside by his beloved father. It was awful for a small boy to wish death on another human being; it made him ill. 

Yes, life had been hard. Yes, people hated him and everything he represented. Yes, he had to crawl on his hands and knees to avoid the salvia of the spitting people around him. After all was said and done, even with curses still ringing in his ears, he wouldn't change a thing. There was hope for them all. He had come out stronger than anyone, even himself, originally thought.

No one, Aidan vowed silently, was going to take all that away.

To be continued…

Author's Notes: Ooo, angst! If you have never seen "Boogiepop Phantom" (the source of the quote), you really should. You have to watch it, like, five times before it makes sense. Check it out in your local comic/video store, under the Anime section. Believe me, even if you don't like anime, you'll like this. 

This chapter sure is unbearably long, isn't it? It was supposed to be much longer but I cut stuff. The last section was another one of those "I wonder what Aidan was _really_ thinking" moments from when Aidan comes down to ask Draco if they "were still going" in Lessons. Imagine your dad just ignoring you for somebody's kid!

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	7. Father Knows Best

Scorched Earth Policy

By Terra

Chapter Six: Father Knows Best

"Say you would, say you could/say you'd come and stop the rain/say you'd try and hold me tight/and you just give me away/make me high on lullabies/a melody for me to sway/say you would, say you could/and you don't do anything." Vanessa Carlton, _Sway_

*** ***

There was no light in the staircase once Harry and Draco passed the ground level so they were forced to risk detection by using their wands. The stairway was very steep and the steps themselves were annoyingly thin; Harry could only fit his heel on each step. Draco practically had to keep his palms plastered to the depressing stone walls to prevent tumbling down the stairs. 

How long they crept is anyone's guess but finally they reached the level floor. Their shoes clicked loudly against the granite, causing both to wince.

"Those slippers of yours would've been useful here," Harry whispered. Draco rolled his eyes.

"They wouldn't match this outfit, Potter," Draco joked in a strained voice. Before them were dozens of iron doors with manual locks. Each had a little slot, as if mail was going to be delivered to the prisoners through the door. The slot was definitely too small for a food tray. The hall was completely silent which left three options. One, the children were not in this dungeon. Two, the children were all asleep. Three, they were all dead. 

"Well, Door Number One, Door Number Two, or Door Number Thirteen?" Harry asked lightly then added, "We could spend all night opening each and every door here."

"Or, I could do this," Draco replied. He held his wand in front of nose, and muttered to it. A miniscule ball of light appeared at the tip and hummed softly. Draco drew the wand back over his shoulder and flicked his wand hand like a whip. The ball of light left the wand, bouncing all over the walls until it paused at one door, next to the other staircase. The ball banged itself against the door as if it wanted to break in.

"There's Aidan," Draco chirped. "That's proof that he's my son. Only works on blood relatives."

Draco jogged over to the door and waved his wand at the bouncing ball. It winked out of existence. Harry followed behind him, scowling.

"What is the matter with you?" Draco asked in an innocent manner.

"Don't you dare try telling me that it wasn't a spell allotted to the Dark Arts because I'd know that spell anywhere," Harry hissed back.

"Did you seriously _want_ to open every door? I thought you wanted to get out of here."

"Your record is not exactly clean at the moment, Malfoy. You've already killed someone."

"And we've already had this discussion. I didn't use the wand to do it either so you can't snap it."

"But you just did that spell with your wand," Harry pointed out.

"I didn't kill anyone. I only did it to save time. I personally don't see _why_ it's a Dark Arts spell. It's perfectly harmless." Draco opened the slot to look in. Harry rubbed his temple. Maybe this was some terrible nightmare and the climax was coming soon. He pinched himself. It hurt.

"Is he praying?" Draco asked, indicating Harry to look in as well. Harry warily peeked inside.

It did look like Aidan was praying. He was on his knees, his hands in the classic prayer position, his blond hair covering his face. The crescent moon shone down on him, illuminating his figure. He looked ghost-like in the pale half-light from the high window. It took Harry's breath away. Draco pushed Harry aside with a grunt and threw his voice inside, "Praying for a savior?"

Aidan looked up, wondering where the voice had come from. He turned his eyes towards the door and through the slot saw two glittering silver eyes.

"Father!" Aidan cried as he nearly slammed himself against the iron door. Realization hit him. "Wait, how did you…?"

"I gave him temporary permission to leave," Harry explained, moving Draco aside to reveal his famous green eyes to the young teenager. "He's here… to help."

"Of course!" Aidan exclaimed. "Do you know where we are?"

"At the Parkinson estate," Draco supplied.

"That's what I guessed. Mother sold me out, Father."

Draco snorted. "Why am I not surprised? Probably for nothing more than a bottle of vodka." 

"Where are the others?" Harry asked.

"Well, one group is three cells down from mine. I got moved earlier on."

"Moved? Why?" Harry responded, inspecting the lock. 

"Probably to prevent Aidan from passing on any useful information to the Mudbloods," Draco guessed.

"Father!" Aidan scolded.

"Yes?"

"Could you refrain from using that word?"

"'Useful'? I'll try next time."

"You know what he meant, Malfoy," Harry growled. "Alohomara is not going to work on this lock. There might be an echo." Harry conjured up a set lock picking tools and sat down to work on the complex lock. 

"I thought you were going to just abandon us here," Aidan wailed.

"Why would we do that?" Harry asked, from the floor.

"I thought… it's doesn't matter now, does it?" Aidan replied in a worried voice.

"Did they do anything, Aidan?" Draco asked.

"Um… they Crucio'd Marie Halle but there might be more…"

"I wasn't asking about the stupid Mudbloods, I was asking about you! Are you hurt or anything?"

"Well, just minor scrapes from being thrown in here."

"Where?"

"On my palms, knees, and chin. It doesn't hurt…"

"Bastards! Don't they know whom they're dealing with?!"

"Malfoy," Harry interrupted, "they have no idea that you have been released. They thought they were just dealing with a young kid."

"He's part of their screwed-up family as well, in case they've forgotten," Draco snapped back.

"It wasn't the Parkinsons, Father."

"Then who was it?"

"Crabbe and Goyle, Father."

Draco laughed. "Oh, that makes me feel _so _much better. My own men beating up my son."

"I didn't get beat up! I fell!" Aidan objected. "I'm more worried about the others."

The lock clicked. "It's unlocked now," Harry explained, getting up to open the door. Aidan stood back to provide room. Harry and Draco stepped inside to take a better look at the blond boy.

He actually looked quite well. The scrapes on the palms, knees, and chin had long since stopped bleeding and were beginning to heal. Aidan was slightly dirty from having to sit in a dusty dungeon since the afternoon. The clothes weren't even damaged.

"Muggle clothes," Draco observed, disapprovingly. 

"I was in Muggle London all day," Aidan explained.

"Why?"

"I was bored so I went." Aidan smiled in what appeared to be in a disarming way but Draco just rolled his eyes and gestured for his son to exit. The three men left the dark dungeon and closed the door half-heartedly. 

Aidan was practically skipping once he was outside his cell. "I can't believe it. I thought I was a goner for sure. I'm positive that they want to do a Memory Charm on me."

"Yes," Draco drawled, "your mother's family was a fan of that policy. They're stupid like that."

"Is this the cell?" Harry asked, interrupting their "touching" moment.

"Yes," Aidan answered, nodding, "the one across from it is where the rest are." Harry sat down to work on the lock once again. Aidan piped up, "I can do the other one."

Both men looked at Aidan in alarm. Harry asked what both were thinking, "You can pick locks?"

"I have to," Aidan explained, "in case I lose a key to somewhere at the Manor. What if someone got locked in?"

"Celebrate?" Draco whispered. If Aidan heard him, he didn't react although Harry scowled at him.

"I guess I can lend you the tools," Harry answered, giving him the pouch, "I want to get you all out of here." And, he added silently, put Malfoy back where he belongs. Aidan silently took the tools and began working on the opposite door. Harry, knowing the trick to the breed of lock, quickly broke it and opened the door.

There were twelve teenagers, ages ranging from twelve to eighteen, huddled together inside the cell. They were in worst condition than Aidan but, again, it wasn't too serious. Some of the articles of clothing had rips in them. A few had bruises or slight cuts developing on their bodies. One girl was huddled in an older boy's lap, shaking. That must be Marie, Harry thought sadly.

The kids immediately began to wail about not taking anymore of their number, especially Marie, who clutched tighter to the older boy's shirt. Harry looked behind him and saw that Draco was standing in the doorway, wearing a devilish smirk.

"Malfoy," Harry barked, "could you stop looking evil for a second? You're scaring them!"

"It's not my fault what I look like, Potter," Draco whined in a very annoying manner. Harry got up from the floor after gathering his supplies and swam into the sea of frightened students.

The boy holding the shaking girl asked in amazement, "Are you Harry Potter?"

"Yes," Harry answered, "is that Marie Halle?"

"Guys, it's okay. He's come to help us!" the boy cheered then added to Harry, "Yes, she's been Crucio'd."

Another girl with her braids falling out answered, "And Isabelle, she got it too. She was trying to warn them. Did Chloe get out?"

Before Harry could reassure them of his daughter's safety, Draco demanded, "What the hell was Chloe Potter doing there?"

The babbling halted as they looked at the blond man. The boy holding Marie inquired, "Are you… Aidan's dad?"

"Yes, he's Draco Malfoy," Harry answered quickly. The boys' and girls' eyes widened in shock.

"Aren't you supposed to be put away somewhere?" the girl with the loose braids asked, worried.

"Yes," Draco answered in an angry voice, "You still haven't answered my question!" The girl whimpered in fright and tried to back away.

"Malfoy," Harry growled, "I mean it. It doesn't matter why she was there. Just drop it or I'll take your wand back." Draco snarled back at him but kept his mouth shut.

"I got it!" Aidan called from across the hall.

"That's good, Aidan!" Harry hollered back and explained, "Aidan's getting the rest of you."

The questions promptly started up again all at once.

"Is he hurt?"

"Is he okay?"

"Have they erased his memory yet?"

"Did he break himself out or what?"

Harry ignored the questions and went out to the other room, finding conditions very much the same, except that Isabelle looked much older than Marie, most likely heading into sixth or seventh year. She was curled up in a corner, quietly sobbing. A huddle of girls were around her, patting her on her back in a soothing fashion.

"Is everyone okay in here?" Harry asked the crowd, "Besides Isabelle?" There was a chorus of mumbled "okay" and "fine". Aidan led the group of twelve out as Harry went to gather the other twelve with Draco.

A group of twenty-four students, twenty-five if Aidan was counted, stood before the two older men in a frightened but hopeful huddle. They looked at each other nervously. It was rather large group they had to save. They both turned away from the group, who were stretching their legs.

"There is no way in hell that we can successful escape with twenty-five teenagers plus two men as a group. They'll hear them," Draco whispered. Harry sadly nodded but replied, "We have no choice. We can't take them in groups because that takes too long. Who knows when they might come down here to torture them or even, forbid the thought, feed them."

"So we have to take them all at once? That's insane, Potter."

"We can't split them up. They'll have to be absolutely silent."

"It's fine to say they'll be silent but they won't be. Even if the regular students do, the two girls will start screaming at a shadow."

"We. Have. No. Choice." Harry stated slowly. They turned back to the children to explain the situation.

"Okay, it must have occurred to you by now that twenty-seven people is a lot to move," Harry explained, "so, you must be _absolutely silent_. No sound must come out of your throats. If you don't, it doesn't mean just you will suffer but all of us will. Is this clear?"

The children nodded silently.

"No humming, no singing, no coughing, no whispering, nothing. You must be silent or you will not come of out this building alive. I am not exaggerating. Everyone here depends on the complete silence of us moving." Harry scanned the crowd for even a wiggle. No one moved. No one even breathed. They understood. That was easy part. "Let's go and get out of here."

The teenagers understanding their dilemma quickly got up. A girl opened her mouth to ask something of her neighbor but the friend quickly clapped her hand over the talkative girl's mouth. Everyone around her glared at her bashful face. She looked down in shame but she knew enough not to vocally express her regret. Draco indicated for Harry to mount the nearest stairway, which was luckily less steep and had wider steps. The procession walked in complete silence, few dared to breathe too often in case the sound carried up the stone passageway. Draco followed closely behind Harry and Aidan followed behind his father, leading his charges behind him. Their larger male companions carried Marie and Isabelle and they managed to vaguely understand the need for silence and suppressed their sniffling. 

The staircase was as cold as the rest of the god-forsaken mansion and every step seemed to Harry to sound like a cannon going off, the clicks echoing to just the wrong person above them. However, no one came across the large group of wizards and witches but the time the adults had reached the landing. Draco looked carefully around to find the passage out. With a nod of his head, he directed the group towards a left hallway. The hallway lacked the fine beautiful objects that the early Malfoys had craved in the days gone by. There were paintings on the wall and the subjects shrugged their shoulders at the group. The paintings had not grown a loyalty to their owners and felt no need to alert them. In breathless silence, they crept around corners and ducked into shadows. The group resembled a giant worm, stopping and starting in parts according to the head's desires.

They eventually crept into a large cloakroom and everyone quietly ducked inside as Aidan shut the door without a word. The children collapsed on to the floor, hanging their heads. None dared to speak but a few choked out large pants.

"I've come up with a clever idea, Potter," Draco whispered in Harry's ear.

"Does that clever idea entail killing everyone here so we can move faster?"

"Of course not. I'd like to but you won't let me. I have a better idea." Draco leaned in closer to his partner, and breathed, "I know my way around. I'll go ahead and stake out the area ahead of the group. As long as I don't get brutally murdered, you'll know that the area is clear."

"How stupid do you think I am?" Harry hissed angrily, "Let you off wandering alone. You'll run and I know it."

"I could watch him," Aidan interrupted softly from his seat underneath them. 

Draco smiled. "He took the words out my mouth. I never said I'd go alone. I was about to suggest bringing my son. He won't let me run off. I couldn't leave my son behind, could I?" Draco patted his teenaged son's head as he awaited Harry's response. He looked at the pair again and again as he weighed the pros and cons. Harry knelt to stare Aidan in the face, saying, "Swear to me that you won't let your father out of your sight."

"I swear. These people are my responsibility. I can't let anything happen to them."

"Fine," Harry said, standing up, "Go on ahead. We'll be following in a minute."

Draco smiled at his son as Aidan stood up and went to the door. "Come on, Father," Aidan whispered as he opened the well-oiled door. Draco gestured to his heir to step outside first before exiting the cloakroom himself. 

*** ***

It was deadly quiet in the empty hallway. Aidan looked to his father for a indication of where to go. Draco silently pointed to the hallway in front of them and they glided forward into the darkness. Aidan was trembling in excitement. He wasn't wrong, Father was getting better. He hadn't tried to kill anyone, he admitted his weaknesses. Every aspect of his plan was falling into place. Things were starting to look up. Aidan could see a beautiful glimmering light at the end of demeaning tunnel. Had Aidan been raised in a more open household, he would have hugged his father but he politely restrained himself. Lives were at stake.

Draco seemed unbelievably calm. Aidan wondered if his DeathEaters days had numbed him to sneaking around uninvited in the enemy's house, since his face betrayed nothing. His father used his hand to guide Aidan's back towards the correct way, keeping to the dark. He constantly kept looking around to unwanted company but neither Malfoy saw any stragglers. 

Aidan couldn't resist whispering, "How much farther is the exit?"

"Not far. Do you hear any of others behind us?" Draco asked. Aidan looked around and strained his ears for any clue of the Muggle-borns moving on. He saw and heard nothing. Aidan shook his head.

It was like being struck by lightning. Draco quickly clapped his free hand over his son's mouth, using his other arm to restrict his breathing and locked Aidan in very nasty embrace. He pulled himself and Aidan against the wall as Aidan struggled vainly. Aidan's squeals squeezed through the gaps between his father's fingers.

"Now, now, Aidan," Draco cooed his ear, "You don't want to scream or all your little friends will be caught, as will you. I can't let you become like your grandmother." Aidan's eyebrows pulled together in confusion. Draco explained in a haunted voice, "Grandmother Malfoy is upstairs. They turned her into a vegetable and then chopped off her legs like a worthless Muggle. I had to kill her but I don't want to kill you." Aidan squealed in horror. Father _had_ killed someone, right above his head, Aidan thought in a panic; He killed his own mother. Aidan nearly cried in frustration. Draco clamped his palm tighter over Aidan's mouth and rocked him slowly as if he wished to comfort him after a bad nightmare.

"Aidan," Draco breathed solemnly, "I can't lose you now. Not to Muggles, not to the Mudbloods, not to the Ministry, not even to the brain-dead Parkinsons. You are the flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood. Everything I do, I do for you. I even cooperate with the insane Doctor Lovejoy so I can get out quicker. I don't want to hurt you; it would destroy me to see you damaged in any way." Aidan tried to rip his father's arm away from his mouth but it was no use. Draco looked down at his son also mournfully. "Why are you struggling? There is no need. I'm doing this for your benefit, Aidan. Some day, you'll understand all this. I want you to live on and carry out the Malfoy values," Draco hissed. He removed his wand arm away from his son's neck. Aidan attempted to extract Draco's palm but it was no use. His father pointed the wand tip at the side of Aidan's blond head. He could feel the tip stabbing into his skull. Even if Aidan were to move, the wand would be in place and Draco would not miss.

"Imperio," Draco whispered defiantly. To Aidan's internal horror, Aidan's arms relaxed in his father's grip. His legs uncurled and his feet lay flat on the wooden panels. A fog seemed to cloud his senses. Everything was distant and unimportant. He felt almost sleepy and his eyes drooped slightly against his will. He swayed on the spot and he sighed as he collapsed into his delighted father's chest. Draco absentmindedly stroked his son's rich blond locks as he prepared a command.

"It would be nice for you just to sleep," Aidan could vaguely hear his father say although he didn't really notice, "But that will come later. Shame, really, that I have to do this at all."

Through the dreamy fog, a simple command banged into Aidan's mind: Run to the exit. Suddenly, he knew _exactly_ the location of the back door. His body bolted upright and he began to sprint down the corridors. A tiny voice in head pleaded with him to stop, that he shouldn't abandon the others like this. Aidan could fine little reason why not as the command boomed in his skull. Run. Run. Run. He didn't care if anyone saw him. He used no stealth. He didn't duck into shadows or check around corners. He just ran because that's all he really desired to do.

As he sped down the hallways, farther and farther from his father and controller, the tiny voice gained strength and grew louder. A few times he actually stopped but the mysterious voice in his head screamed his escape and off he went again. The voices tried to speak over the other.

Run

No! Don't!

Run. Just run!

They'll die!

You'll die!

They're your friends!

Save yourself!

They're like family! 

Run as fast as you can!

They are your responsibility!

RUN, DAMN YOU!

DON'T LEAVE THEM!

With every step, the battle within his head raged, causing him to stumble and bang into unnoticed walls. Luckily, he met no one because he would have been a strange sight, his hands against his temples, gritting his teeth as his feet tried to trip over themselves. At long last, he reached the kitchen and burst out of the door. Around him was a lush, wet field surrounded by a forest. The warmer air made Aidan smile. You're free, the now-feeble voice commented, now run home. The louder, more serious voice replied angrily that he should run back inside and save the rest.

His body propelled forward in a zigzag fashion, weaving back and forth like a drunkard during Happy hour. His body then turned around towards the mansion and took a step forward where he immediately swung around back to face the imposing trees. Tears leaked from Aidan's eyes, the strain was immense. He staggered one way a few feet only to spin dizzily and trip over to a new direction like some Muggle robot dog on the fritz. 

Finally, he collapsed in the cool, damp grass and squealed in anguish. He rolled around in the long blades clutching his head. His feet, obeying the mysterious voice, kicked madly in the air as if running without realizing that Aidan was lying down. The controller, realizing that the plan was not working, put more force into the voice in Aidan's head, commanding furiously that running home was the only option.

Aidan pleaded like a young child to the stars, innocently twinkling above him, "Please, help me. Make him stop. Someone, help me." Aidan began to weep in pain and fear as his feet kicked hard into the empty air. His feet began to propel himself up to a sitting position but Aidan managed to force himself back down. "Make him stop," he wailed. Aidan scratched at his face in agony. In the corner of Aidan's mind, he registered hands grabbing his shoulders and flailing ankles and lifting him off the ground. Aidan didn't really care, the voice felt like it was pounding Aidan's brain to a bloody mess inside his skull. Aidan detected voices from outside his head but he didn't pay attention; it didn't make the pain stop. He was again laid down on a piece of soft earth covering with fresh leaves which he began to scatter with his struggles against his father's command in his head. 

After what seemed like hours of torture, the commanding voice faded, leaving Aidan alone in his thoughts. He panted in exhaustion; he wanted to sleep badly but he knew that the Muggle-borns may still be in there. His legs were sore from constantly kicking at nothing and his arms were stiff from pressing them against the trunk of his body. Aidan gathered his bearings, noticing he was in a forest of some kind. The trees blocked out the night sky, making the forest floor very dark and cool. Aidan felt sweat drip down his forehead, his hair sticking to the frame of his face. He heard a rustle of leaves behind him. Aidan's eyes widened. He was in no condition to swat at a fly, much less so hungry beast with a hankering for some sweaty human flesh. To Aidan's great relief, his professor, Remus Lupin's, head came into his line of vision. Aidan gave him a weak smile.

"Are we feeling better?" the professor asked kindly.

"I didn't know you were sick too, Professor," Aidan joked. Someone snorted in distaste. Aidan rolled his eyes around to find the source but he could only see Lupin and the trees. Lupin answered his silent question by saying, "Sirius, he's a young…"

"Malfoy," Sirius Black replied sharply.

"You can not be upset simply because he kicked you," Lupin scolded.

"And bit me! Right on the arm!" Sirius' arm darted into Aidan's eyes. There were tiny teeth marks. The damage looked very slight but Aidan said, "Sorry."

"Oh, Sirius, you'll live," Lupin snapped, rolling his eyes, "he wasn't exactly in control of himself."

"How do we know if he is now?" Sirius asked, sliding his face into view, glaring at Aidan intently.

Lupin sat up, looking back to the field. "I don't know. Flip a coin?"

"I feel better actually," Aidan stammered. "I think I fought it off."

"What, pray tell, were you fighting off?" Sirius growled.

Aidan sighed. "An Imperious curse which commanded me to run."

"Performed by your father, I suspect?" Lupin asked, turning his attention back to the young pureblood. Aidan weakly nodded. 

"Well, I'm not surprised, are you?" Sirius asked with a cold smile.

"I am," Aidan blurted angrily. Aidan slowly sat up and leaned against a benign tree. Aidan was thoroughly upset at this development. His father had done the unthinkable. Even the Crucio was just a simple accident, a case of jumpy nerves of mentally ill man. He promised me, Aidan thought, frustrated, he _promised_ me he'd never do anything like that again. 

"Where are the rest of the students?" the werewolf asked. Everyone in school knew he was a werewolf; it was included in the Hogwarts letter, explaining that Professor Lupin was no threat to the student body. Aidan heard from older students and former residents of the Manor that there had been an outcry at first but his former students stepped up to defend the old Defense teacher. By the time of Aidan's first year, no one batted an eye at the thought.

"I don't know. We were separated," Aidan explained glumly. Damn, he had planned this all out in advance. 

"Then we continue to wait," Lupin sighed sadly. "I'm sorry about what your father did to you. There is a reason why it is an Unforgivable Curse."

The three sat in darkness, their eyes intent on the back door where Harry and Draco had entered hours before. Seeing that the two adults may have some answers, Aidan asked, "Um… did Chloe get home okay?"

Sirius answered gruffly, "Yes, perfectly fine, according to Harry. Why?"

"Sirius," Lupin warned, "Chloe is his friend. Obviously he would care about her safety." Sirius muttered something under his breath about Chloe being his little baby but Aidan couldn't really catch the entire phrase. The minutes passed slowly in silence. Lupin shifted his position near his look-out point, the twilight revealed a slight bulge in his front pocket. "What's that in your pocket, Professor?" 

Lupin regarded the young boy in surprise. "What bulge?" Lupin vainly tried to pat it down but it was too late. Once Aidan got interested in something, it was hard to shake him off.

"Don't lie, Professor. That bulge," Aidan explained, pointing to the offending location, "What's in your pocket?"

Lupin raised his eyebrows at Sirius for support. Sirius shrugged back. Lupin took out a small leather sack and shook it. He quickly placed the bag back in its proper location.

"What's in it?"

"A sample of a herb," Lupin explained quickly, hoping to deter Aidan from inquiring further.

"What kind?" Aidan asked. Lupin wearily closed his eyes.

"Does it matter?"

"I want to know, that's all."

"Asphodellia," Lupin replied. Aidan clapped his hands together.

"I know that one. It's often confused with asphodel, used in sleeping potions. That plant causes paralysis rather than drowsiness. I think they're in the same family though," Aidan concluded proudly. He couldn't believe he had remembered all that; Herbology wasn't his best subject.

"Very good memory, Aidan," Lupin commented, adding, "If we were in a class setting, I'd give you points."

"Tough luck, Aidan," Sirius laughed. Aidan ignored him.

"Why do you have it though? It doesn't have any healing properties." Lupin opened his mouth and then closed it again. He wiped the sweat off his hands on his robes, whistling quietly. Aidan frowned. Professor Lupin was just going to ignore him. Sirius Black smiled evilly and threw his hand into the air as if he were in class and whined in his best impersonation of the school-aged Hermione Granger, "Oh! Oh! Professor! I know! I know!"

"Sirius…"

"Call on me, Professor! I know the answer! Pick me!"

"Sirius, no…"

Sirius slammed his palm down beside him and coldly answered Aidan's question in his natural voice, sending shivers down Aidan's spine, "We have it to give to your father if he goes on a killing spree. His legs will lock up within minutes and we'll _drag_ him back to Raveneux. Understand?"

Aidan bowed his head. "Yes, sir."

"Sirius," Lupin replied angrily, "at least show some consideration and tact. He's only fifteen." 

"When he bites your arm, let's see how generous you feel then, Remus," Sirius mumbled. Aidan resigned himself to being depressed when a strange thought entered his head.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Aidan?"

"How do you know that I'm okay now? How do you know I'm not just lying?"

Lupin rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We don't. We have to trust you."

"Is there any way to find out?"

"No, unfortunately. There is no way to prove or disprove the statement that one was under an Imperious. Why, Aidan?"

"Well," Aidan began, an outlandish plan coming into focus as he spoke, "how do you know me as I am now isn't the curse talking? How do you know that me rolling around the ground wasn't the real me?"

"So, what?" Sirius suggested, "The Ministry put you under an Imperious to make you a good boy?"

"Well, no," Aidan answered, "but could you prove that they didn't?"

There was a silence within the group. Slowly, Lupin shook his head. 

"Why even bother bringing this up? Did your father say this or something?" Sirius demanded.

"No," Aidan replied slowly, the plan crystallizing as he considered his next words, "I simply want to do what my family is famous for."

To be continued…

Author's Notes: The song that the quote above comes from, in my mind, explains Draco and Aidan's relationship perfectly. It inspired the Imperious scene actually because the tune is very soft and swinging, like a lullaby, but the words are sung in an angry tone during some parts of the chorus, like she's debating with herself. Have some fun and play it while you read the Imperious section. Oh, and asphodellia does not exist. I made it up.

Questions? Comments? Review or e-mail me!

Please come again!


	8. Blood Lines

Scorched Earth Policy

By Terra

Chapter Seven: Blood Lines

"Don't pretend to hold it in just let it out/don't pretend to hold it in just push it out/don't you try to hold it in just let it out and/don't you try to hold it in you hold it in"-Vanessa Carlton, _Paradise_

*** ***

Harry waited quite some time until he quietly led the other twenty-four boys and girls through the chilly halls. When they encountered Draco alone, he explained that Aidan had gone further ahead while Draco had stayed to wait for the rest. Harry remained suspicious when they failed to catch up with the younger Malfoy even after they had reached the back door.

"Did Aidan run off?" Harry asked, ushering the children outside.

"He's pretty quick," Draco remarked distractedly. 

Aidan was not waiting outside either. "Perhaps he's gone to the nearest Wizarding home to contact the Ministry," Draco suggested, shrugging.

Something about Aidan's disappearance made the Auror clench his teeth involuntarily. Draco was much too calm about his missing son. Harry knew that his only concern was his child and only his child; he should be at least upset about Aidan not waiting outside for them. 

Before Harry could reflect further, the happy voices of the children were calling out, "Professor!" Harry looked in their direction. Coming out of the forest were Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. The students ran towards the amused professor in a huddle, chattering excitedly at him. Sirius was obviously biting back a joke at all their expenses. Draco glared at Harry, hissing, "Why are they here?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask them to come." The two men walked over to the professor and the ex-convict in confusion. Harry asked Sirius, seeing that he was unoccupied, "What are you doing here?"

"Having a tea party, Harry," Sirius replied, "care to join us?"

"Sirius, answer my question."

"The Aurors asked us to come and serve as back-up," Sirius explained.

"How could they?" Harry inquired, "I didn't ask for any help. I thought Malfoy was well within my limits." Draco muttered something behind Harry but he ignored him.

"They just wanted someone to be standing by in case something went terribly wrong." Sirius smiled at Draco and added, "In other words, the Ministry doesn't trust you as far as they can spit."

Draco's nostrils flared before he posed a question of his own, "But why send you two? Why not one of the other Aurors?"

"Because we are just so cool," Sirius replied. 

Remus over the crowd of adoring and shaken students answered, "Because we are expendable."

Draco gave a short laugh when Sirius threw Remus a dirty look. "The truth comes out!"

"But how did you get in here? There must have been millions of plants in your path," Harry interrupted.

"Yeah, a fallen log and a couple of small weeds but I'm not afraid of a few dandelions, Harry," Sirius reflected.

"A couple of dandelions? What about the man-eating plants in there?" 

"What man-eating plants? There was a perfectly clear path."

There was a silence as Harry digested the information. Finally, he asked, "Where?" Sirius pointed behind him with his thumb and Harry saw a wide, beaten path, large enough to drive a car through. He turned on Malfoy. Malfoy was likewise staring in utter shock. "It wasn't there before! I looked as hard as I…"

"I found it pretty fast," Remus answered, "Once you climb over the fallen log, it's clear."

Harry jogged his memory and realized the log he meant. "You mean, the one I suggested first?"

Malfoy snorted, "_I_ didn't see it! There wasn't a log last time I was here."

"They probably drag it away when they expect visitors." Malfoy tore at his flat hair in anger and Harry resisted the urge to slap him. Harry straightened his robes and asked, "Did you see Aidan, by any chance?"

Remus and Sirius looked at each other as if reading each other's minds. Finally, Remus answered, "Yes, but he ran past us. We couldn't stop him."

Sirius added, "He went along the path. We tried to call out to him but he didn't seem to hear us."

A knot formed in Harry's stomach. Aidan could be anywhere in the man-eating plant infested forest. Draco replied, "Well, he probably went for help anyway. Not to worry."

"Not to worry?" Harry repeated. "He's your _son_. We have no idea where he could have gone! He could be dead."

Draco waved off the suggestion. "He isn't dead, Potter. He'll keep to the path. He'll probably be at the exit or even back at the Manor, waiting for us." Draco smoothed his hair over and remarked, "Shouldn't we get going?" Harry stared at Draco's face, trying to probe his thoughts but his eyes showed him nothing. Draco was keeping his inner thoughts to himself. Harry gathered the children near him and began the trek through the path.

Harry, Draco, and Sirius headed the group while Remus watched the rear. As far they could tell, no one was following but who knew when the kidnappers would decide to begin torturing and finding no one to torture in the cells. The group walked swiftly, nervously spying on the landscape. Harry could hear plants (he hoped) slithering on the forest floor, on the trees, in the branches above the group. None of the plants came near them; there was most likely a charm in place to repel the demonic plants. 

A young girl behind Harry spoke softly to her neighbour, "Aidan wouldn't do that."

The friend replied, "Yeah. Something's wrong. He'd at least wait for us."

"Something made him run," another girl suggested to the other two.

Harry was starting to agree with them. "Malfoy? What happened when I sent you ahead?"

Draco looked at Harry, baffled. "We went ahead a couple of yards, saw no one, then Aidan suggested he go on ahead."

"Aidan suggested this?"

"Yes, Potter, he did."

Before Harry could inquire further, Remus called to the front, "Do you hear that?" The procession stopped and anyone listened. Nothing.

"What are we supposed to hear?" Sirius asked.

"It's a humming," Remus explained.

"An insect," Draco drawled, "Let's keep going." 

"Wait," a boy in the back cried, "I hear it too. It's coming closer." Soon, other nearby students repeated the statement that something was humming and it was heading towards the group. Finally, Harry heard the humming and recognized the sound immediately.

"Broomstick," Harry whispered. He ordered, "Everyone! Down!" The group lay flat on their stomachs as the humming grew louder. They could hear leaves and branches struck as if the rider was crashing through the trees with great speed. The sound increased. The racer was getting very close. 

Then a high-pitched scream tore through the forest.

It all happened so fast, Harry couldn't stop it. Draco got to his feet in a flash, held his wand towards the source of the scream and muttered a spell. The crashing of the trees muffled him, preventing Harry knowing exactly Draco attempted to do. Harry only saw a flash of bright light and loud pop. 

A shape burst out of the trees, dodged the blast and escaped into the trees into the other side. Whoever screamed, screamed again and sobbed as well.

Harry didn't give Draco the chance to aim again. Forgoing magic, Harry ripped the wand out of Draco's hands and hid it in a pocket. "That was unnecessary, Malfoy."

"I knew who that scream belonged to. She'll kill everyone here if given the chance." Draco smiled into the trees and cooed with mock-sweetness, "Isn't that true, Pansy?"

If Pansy was there, it was not she who answered, "You forget one thing; Mother can't fly on a stick, she doesn't have the skill." 

The children gasped. Harry stammered, "Ai-Aidan?"

Aidan, on a brand-new Nimbus 2010, slowly flew himself and his passenger out of the shadows. His passenger was the blubbering Pansy Parkinson Malfoy. Aidan, himself, appeared quite cross. "Surprised you, didn't I, Father? Weren't expecting me here, were you?"

Draco shook his head dumbly. Aidan continued, "It was very clever, Father. You nearly succeeded; I actually reached the forest. Unfortunately for you, I managed to beat it."

Harry interrupted, "But Sirius and Remus told us…"

"What he told us to say," Remus explained. "We found him trying to fight the curse. He went back inside to 'take care of something'. He reasoned out that Malfoy would go back inside if he knew Aidan had gone back. His plan seemed sound so we let him carry it out."

"My main goal was to save everyone else," Aidan stated softly.

Pansy, lifting her sickly face from her shaking hands, screamed, "At the expense of your family!" 

"I had no choice. Justice had to be carried out," Aidan explained softly. Seeing Harry shocked face, he amended, "I didn't kill them, Mr. Potter, if that's what you're thinking."

"Just betrayed them! Betrayed your flesh and blood!"

Aidan turned on his mother. "Mother, they kidnapped me and the rest of the children here. They were planning to wipe my memory, leave a husk behind. I think it was _my_ trust that was betrayed." Aidan added softly, "And you helped them. I could have left you but I didn't because I forgive you, just as I forgive Father. I can do that because I love you, do you understand?"

"You should have left her, in my opinion," Draco drawled. "Thank you for understanding my intentions."

"Intentions of what, Malfoy?" Sirius requested with a sarcastic smile. "Didn't you say that he simply told Aidan to move along ahead?"

Draco's face lost all its color. His mouth moved but nothing came out.

"He meant the best," Aidan replied in his father's defense. Harry didn't care. He took Draco's wand in his two hands and snapped it in half. Draco screamed as if Harry had broken his spine in half, falling to the ground in anguish. Aidan shook his head in disbelief while Pansy giggled behind him.

"Get this recycled when we get back," Harry ordered coldly, throwing the splinters at Aidan. He caught the pieces without a word. Harry roughly pulled Draco up. "I meant it when I said it. You certainly deserved that ages ago. Now, move."

Aidan lowered himself down so he could dismount but Pansy did not. "Get off, Mrs. Malfoy," Remus politely recommended, holding the broom steady. Pansy glared at him and replied, seething with anger, "I can't."

"Of course, you can, I'll hold it steady for you."

"I can not get off."

"I'll lower it then if you're afraid of falling down," Remus suggested, pushing the hovering broom lower, where Pansy's toes nearly hit the ground.

"Aren't you listening?" Pansy screeched, "I am not able to get off!"

"She can't walk," Aidan explained softly. Draco sniggered and sang softly, "Well, that what comes from too much pills and liquor…"

Aidan answered his father, "It's not because of that. The Parkinsons lined her cup with asphodellia before I even got there."

Remus looked at Aidan, worry all over his face, "Did you add it anyway?"

"I didn't know it was on her cup, so, yeah, I did."

"So, she got the double the dose?"

"Exactly."

Harry cut in, "Excuse me? What are you two talking about?"

Remus sighed, "I gave Aidan some asphodellia to add to the dinner wine to buy you all time. That's why no one is coming. They are all paralyzed, aren't they?" Remus asked Aidan. Aidan nodded. Remus continued, "But taking too much is not good for you."

Draco laughed, "Well, the way she drinks, she might have triple the dose, at least!"

"Shut up, you bastard!" Pansy screamed.

"Drunken bitch!" Draco snapped back.

"Father! Mother! This isn't the time!" Aidan pleaded.

"What I'm wondering is," Sirius interrupted, "what did Aidan mean by 'what my family is famous for'?"

Draco turned his attention away from his estranged wife and asked his son, "What are we famous for?"

Aidan blushed in embarrassment. "It was you that gave me the idea. I was thinking about how Imperious curses work and then I thought of Grandfather Malfoy. I did some research about the First Reign and how people were questioned, including him."

Remus interrupted, "And Lucius Malfoy said he was under the Imperious, didn't he?"

Aidan nodded. "And since you can't prove that…"

Pansy screeched, "He was able to trick the entire family, except me, of course, that he had been under the Imperious the last ten years and he just got out of it."

Draco's eyebrows knitted together. "But why say we're famous for it, since his was true and your claim was false?"

Sirius laughed. "Oh, come on! The Malfoy family is the first family that comes to mind that get out of jams by saying they didn't know what was going on!"

"Or just being able to weasel their way out of a corner," Harry added. His eye caught a scrap of parchment in Aidan's hand before he was about to order everyone to move along. "What's that in your hand, Aidan?"

Aidan put the full hand behind his back. "Nothing." Harry wasn't in a negotiating mood. "Accio." The parchment flew through the air like a bullet into Harry's palm.

On the parchment was a grid of lines. There were two red dots on the grids very close together. The dots were obviously blood.

"Aidan? Where did this blood come from?"

"Nowhere."

Pansy interrupted with mirth, "He cut himself and did a Dark Arts spell to make it separate."

"Is that true?" Harry asked.

Aidan hung his head and looked at his feet. "Yes, but I had to. I had to find the group so I had to use something for a tracking spell."

"But how does cutting yourself help you find the group?"

Draco said in monotone, "Blood of my blood. I had said that earlier. I'm inspiring a lot of funny ideas today, aren't I?" Harry looked at Draco with a confused expression. Draco rolled his eyes and explained, "Aidan is my son. My blood and, unfortunately, Pansy's blood is part of his blood. To use a tracking spell, you must have something of the person you are tracking. Blood is a good one, isn't it? So, Aidan cut himself, drew blood, and then separated it to produce my blood and Pansy's blood. Since I'm with the group, he could find the group."

"But," Harry concluded, "the spell used to separate blood into the blood of parents is listed under Dark Magic." Harry sighed. When Harry found the books in Aidan's room, he was going to tell him to get rid of them but later he thought perhaps Aidan would not use them so it was probably safer in his possession. Boy, was he wrong.

"Am I…" Aidan asked in a shaky voice, "going to be punished?"

"I don't know. Certain spells get different treatment. We'll have to see. Come on, everyone." The group continued in the silent, slithering dark.

*** ***

Once they reached the area where one could Apparate, the entire group was sent away to St. Mungo's for treatment of physical and mental injuries. Aidan darted around to make sure everyone got adequate treatment, forgoing care for himself in the process. Aidan answered all the questions about the ailments of his charges with ease, downplaying his own injuries (Harry corrected the descriptions when Aidan was preoccupied), and generally keeping everyone's spirit up. Besides the two girls, whom the nurses insured would be fine after a few days, everyone was relaxed and happy that they were no longer under any threat and Aidan was still himself with his memories intact. The four adults sat in squishy waiting chairs as every child was checked in and records detailed down. Remus was starting to fall asleep, Sirius was tapping Remus awake every five minutes, Harry waited for his report papers to come in, and Draco rolled his eyes at the commotion. Pansy had already been led away to treat the likelihood of asphodellia poisoning.

Aidan, nearly dead on his feet, went to sit by his father in an empty chair. To Harry, Aidan looked exhausted. He asked his father, "When are you going back?"

"I don't know. Ask him," Draco answered, pointing at Harry.

Harry answered, "As soon as everyone is in a room and in bed, I'm taking your father back." Aidan appeared heart-broken but said nothing.

"I'm not putting those bands back on," Draco scowled.

"Tough, you have to," Harry replied, harshly. 

"What's the point? I haven't got a wand now, do I?"

"That's not my fault. I told you beforehand what would happen if you tried anything. You choose to do it."

Draco didn't reply. Aidan stretched in his chair and yawned. He regarded all the students that still needed to be checked in and put to bed. A few already asleep. Finally, he sighed, "I hope Isabelle and Marie are okay after all this."

Draco blinked at his son and asked, "Why do you care? They're just Mudbloods."

Perhaps it was because Aidan was so emotionally and physically exhausted. Or maybe it was the final straw. Whatever the cause, Aidan leapt up in anger, his face flushed, his fists clenched.

"Why do I care?!" Aidan demanded, "Why do I care? Those people are my responsibility as well as my friends! I care about them and they care about me! You just don't get it!" 

Draco rose as well and hissed, "Don't you _dare_ speak to me like…"

"Like hell! I have every right to speak to you like this! For ten years, I have done everything for you! I've tried everything to make you understand and you just refuse to listen! All my energy, all my effort! For absolutely nothing!" Aidan shook with unsuppressed rage, almost laughing as he continued, "I've made excuses for you. I've stood by you. I was trying to make everything better. I see it now just how _stupid_ I am! How completely blind I was. There's no hope for you; I can understand that now. I finally comprehend what everyone else saw and I refused to. You're hopeless, simply hopeless. You're a horrible, wretched, evil maniac! That's it! Nothing more, without a _scrap_ of humanity!" Aidan was nearly whispering now, shaking his head. "You say you do everything for me but that's not true. You used your own son for your ends. That's all." Aidan had stopped trembling, seeming almost calm as he glared into his father's eyes, the eyes he had inherited, and growled, "You think you love me but how can you when you don't even know what the word means, Draco Malfoy?" Aidan, with all his might, spat in the convict's face. Aidan turned around on his heel, heading towards the room he had been assigned to sleep in and hissed firmly, "I have no father. I never did."

Harry expected some sort of outburst from Draco but Draco only stood there, blinking slowly. Maybe it was a trick of light or perhaps some excess spit but Harry swore that a drop of moisture traveled down Draco's cheek.

*** ***

Pansy sat on her stark bed in the dark, bleak room. There was only the bed, a wardrobe, a table, a chair with a bathrobe hanging off it, a light fixture, and door leading to a connecting bathroom. The blinds were closed. The light tapping of a passing aide in the hallway was the only sound. The footsteps slowly faded away, leaving Pansy in total silence.

Pansy pulled herself up out of bed, which took extreme effort, and went to the notepad on the desk next to the empty flower vase. Pansy took the quill, paused for a minute in concentration, and finally wrote down a single phrase. She ripped the top piece from the pad and set it aside. 

Next, she pulled the chair over to stand under the light fixture. It was a candelabra with three branches. The unlit candles were little nubs in their holders. Pansy picked up the bathrobe with distaste. She removed the sash and threw the robe on the ground. It was just long enough. Pansy set to work on tying the infamous knot of Muggles and Wizards alike. Once completed, she held up a newly-made noose.

She stood on tiptoes on the wobbly chair and tied the excess of her noose to the candelabra tightly. She wasn't going to screw up this time. She deserved to die, her family had shown that to her. She placed her head in the loop, tightening it around her neck. Taking a deep breath, she kicked the chair underneath. It fell with a clatter.

*** *** 

Aidan bolted awake. He had a terrible dream about his mother. He was sweating in his hospital gown and shaking. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. He pressed the emergency call crystal by his bed. Chloe had once told him that Muggle hospital had the same type of feature but the Wizarding version was more efficient.

A nurse appeared in his room, darting her eyes around wondering how who summoned her.

"Miss," Aidan whispered, not wishing to wake anyone else since it was one in the morning. "May I see my mother? I had a…"

"No, she needs rest. She can get help now."

"But something's wrong. I just know it! Please, let me see her."

"Dear," the nurse said sternly, "your mother is fine as long as she's in this hospital. Get some rest."

"Please, just let me put my mind to rest." Before the nurse could respond, another nurse and a doctor entered the room through the door.

"Nurse Mitchell, why are you here?" The doctor asked.

"He," Nurse Mitchell answered, pointing to Aidan, "called me. He wants to see his mother. I told him that there is no need…"

The doctor sighed, "Well, if he really wants to see her, then there is no reason why he can't. Make it brief. If she's not awake, however, I'll have to send you back."

"That's okay," Aidan agreed as the doctor silently did routine check-ups on the sleeping children around him. That completed, the doctor and the two nurses led the young Malfoy to his mother's room.

She was being held in the Adult section of the hospital so the walk was pretty long. When they reached Room 576, the doctor told Aidan, "I'll see if your mother is awake and then you may see her." The doctor entered the dark room. One second later, Aidan heard the doctor gasped, "My God. My God!" The nurses ran in and one of them choked out a strangled scream. "Don't let him in here!" The doctor ordered. Aidan leapt in before anyone could stop him and saw his mother hanging by her bathrobe sash.

Aidan's legs could not support him. He fell to his knees like a sheet of cloth, whisper quiet. He was listless and felt slightly faint. 

The first nurse murmured, "She left a note, Doctor."

The doctor nodded. "Yes, they always do."

"It's for her son."

"What does it say?" Aidan asked without strength.

The nurse cleared her throat and read, " 'To Aidan: Remember that the blood of your family is on your hands.' That's all."

The group was silent. The second nurse set the chair upright, stood on it, and cut the corpse down. The doctor suggested quietly, as if Aidan wasn't there (not that he was fully aware of his surroundings), "Maybe we should move him and put him on Suicide Watch." The nurses nodded grimly. 

The first nurse, being larger, lifted Aidan by his arms and he swayed in her grasp. He took a final look at his mother, laying dead on the floor.

He swooned and all he saw was black.

To be continued…

Author's Notes: Hope you weren't just reading that in the dark with no one home! If you really want to creep yourself out, play the song I quote while you read the suicide scene. Brrr…! 

Comments? Questions? Review or e-mail! Please?

Please come again!


	9. Flinch

Scorched Earth Policy

By Terra

Chapter Eight: Flinch

"How long can a girl be tortured by you/how long before my dignity is reclaimed/how long can a girl be haunted by you/soon I'll grow up and I won't even flinch at your name/soon I'll grow up and I won't even flinch at your name"-Alanis Morisette, _Flinch_

*** ***

"Daddy!" Chloe vainly cried out in the dark, creepy hallway. It was always like this in the nightmare. Chloe would always be five years old, wearing a frayed blue robe, covered in dust, her braids completely undone. Her little slippers would tap, tap, tap against the endless paneling in the disgusting Malfoy Manor hallways. She would run but never fast enough. The dark, shadowy creature was always one step behind her. Its miasma would spread along the floor, the walls, the ceiling, reaching out for her. All she could do was run.

"Daddy!" Chloe screamed, tears running unnoticed down her frightened face. The shadowy monster was closer. Her legs were burning from exhaustion. How long had she been running? Where was her Daddy?

The nightmare always went like this. Chloe would be chased by the shadowy presence but Chloe knew it was Malfoy. She would be running and then…

Chloe tripped. The nightmare was reaching the conclusion. Her knees were scraped and she rolled herself into a ball. "Daddy! Help me!" The shadow was rushing nearer and nearer. Any minute now, Daddy would come in, wake her up and it would be over. Everything would be better; he always made it better. "Daddy!" Chloe shook with fright. This was Daddy's cue! "Wake me up! Please!" 

The shadow was nearly on top of her. Chloe trembled and cried. She wailed, "Daddy!" Where was he? The shadow never got this close before! Why wasn't she waking up? Surprisingly, the shadow retreated. She felt the shadow drift away into some mysterious hallway, far away. 

Chloe cautiously looked up. To her surprise, she had landed next to a full-length mirror. She was not five years old in a dirty, ripped blue robe, wearing slippers with her hair undone. She was now fifteen years old, her hair in a ponytail, and wearing a purple daisy tank top with white shorts. 

She suddenly realized that she was not in Malfoy Manor but Parkinson estate. "Of course! This is where Aidan is!" Chloe was filled with determination. She was going to save Aidan from this horror. Behind her was a dark staircase, leading down. Finding no other course, she walked down the steps.

The ground floor was very old-fashioned with Persian rugs and golden figurines lying about without any meaning. It was full of lovely objects but they seemed to be just thrown together at random which made the room ugly. Nothing matched anything else, reminding Chloe of a garage sale after an old widow with fifteen cats has died. The air was cold as death and she shivered. The fireplace as unlit and looked like it never had been. The paint was peeling and where there was wallpaper, it was ripped and tea-stained. 

Suddenly she heard millions of footsteps as if an army was doing their rounds inside the Parkinson mansion. Chloe couldn't move to her great fear. Her feet were nailed to the floor and her arms were locked at her sides. The footsteps came closer. 

Two lines of hooded, masked people, which could only be Death Eaters, turned a corner, heading into the hall where Chloe was frozen. The lines went towards her and Chloe tried desperately to run but her sandals were like iron. Chloe prayed that the Death Eaters would not see her but she knew it was in vain. However, the lines ignored her. The lines separated like trains passing a platform going around Chloe. Chloe felt the icy robes brush and flutter by her goose-pimply arms and legs but no one stopped or said anything. It was like she was a coat hanger. Not believing her luck, she watched the lines go back up the stairs from whence she came and their steady beat of their feet faded away.

Chloe's legs could finally move to her relief after the Death Eaters disappeared. Chloe went in the direction that the Death Eaters came from. When she turned the corner, she saw an open iron-bolted door. The door was swaying although there was no wind. The hinges did not creak either. The door almost seemed to call out to her, beckon to her. Come inside, it appeared to say, I have the answers you want. Chloe shrugged. It hadn't killed the Death Eaters, she thought, so I'll just see what's there.

There was a long, steep staircase. Everything in sight was made of huge blocks of stone. Chloe gulped and descended. There was no light and Chloe had to press against the walls to prevent herself from tumbling downwards. Halfway down, Chloe heard the iron door slam with a bang. Chloe's heart stopped. It would take too long to run back up, Chloe thought, but what if I'm locked in? Chloe sat on the cold steps. Even if she could get out, a Death Eater might be lurking around waiting to catch her. Aidan might also be down in some dungeon. Chloe gritted her teeth. Her first priority was to find Aidan. He could be hurt somewhere. He may need help. 

Chloe slowly stood up to stop herself from needing help as well and continued downwards. She walked for ages before seeing a light at the end. She restrained herself from running down the steps and heading towards the light. The light came from a single room at the end of the staircase. At long last, Chloe hit level ground and stepped into the room.

The room was bleak with its huge grey block walls and cement floor. The light came from an unseen force and was heartless and cold. There was only one object in the room: a table. The table seemed to be an operating table used in surgeries. It was covered in a clean white sheet which had a human shaped lump under it. She drew closer to the table. Her sandals stepped on something wet. She looked down and saw that she had stepped in a pile of blood. It was still fresh and red. She felt her stomach lurch as she identified the source. A single, pale arm was dangling out of the sheet. Someone had poked pin holes in the arm where the blood had leaked out like water from a punctured water balloon. On further investigation, the blood formed a circle around the table like some gruesome protection barrier. Chloe stepped closer and made to lift the sheet. "It's not Aidan," Chloe told herself firmly. "It's someone… someone else…"

With the manner of someone pulling a bandage off, Chloe quickly lifted the sheet and looked at the body. She gagged. Only the whites of Aidan's eyes were staring up at her from his ghastly dead face. He was naked (as far as Chloe could see) and completely drained of blood. Chloe choked on her tears and bile. She dropped the linen on Aidan's chest and stepped back in horror. She backed into someone. That someone grabbed her wrist in an almost bone-crushing cold grip and spun her to face the new occupant of the room. "Going somewhere?"

It was Draco Malfoy. Not some shadowy presence miasma thing but Draco Malfoy in the flesh. Malfoy never made an appearance in any of her nightmares. Her nightmares never showed his face. He always left her alone; he always stayed away. 

"Let me go!" Chloe cried out, struggling against his grip but Draco laughed and held on tighter. 

"I asked a question, little brat!"

"Aidan needs help! Don't you understand?" Chloe moaned. Her wrist was going to be broken in any minute.

"He doesn't need help from you," Draco hissed. He let her go with a smirk. Chloe banged into the metal table. Her impact made it clang loudly, the walls echoing the sound again and again. Chloe gripped on the cloth for support.

"I'm not afraid of you!" Chloe tried to scream but it came out as a squeak. "You can't hurt me!"

"You know that's not true. I scare you tremendously. I hurt you even now. You can't lead a normal, happy life because of me. I win, you lose, it's that simple."

"I can try!"

" 'Try'? You can't win, Chloe."

"You're locked up, not me! I won, didn't I?"

"But you were still affected. You can put my body away but my memory remains in you."

"Everyone has something that haunts them," Chloe replied calmly. "You can't hurt me anymore." Chloe put a protective hand over Aidan's dead face and bellowed, "And not Aidan either! Aidan has every right to be happy too! I won't let you hurt him!"

Draco laughed at this statement. "You are such a fool, little girl."

"Such big words, Mudblood," another voice from the stairs replied. 

"Ah, Pansy, there you are," Draco said sweetly as his wife (whom Chloe had never seen after the trial) glided down the staircase.

"I simply couldn't believe this conversation," Pansy answered to her husband, looking pointedly at Chloe. 

"Well, sorry I annoy you so much!" Chloe snapped. Chloe was beginning to panic. As far she could see, there was only one way out and that was the stairway behind the Malfoys. She was trapped. She inched her way beyond the table with the half-exposed Aidan on it and went towards the back wall, searching for a button that led to a secret passage. 

"Don't bother," Draco drawled, "you can't escape."

"I don't need you to tell me that!" Chloe barked back braver than she felt. There was just a wall behind her.

"It's really pathetic," Pansy snickered as she spoke, "seeing you squirm like this. Your father wouldn't do this, would he?" Pansy's eyes lit and added in mock-surprise, "Oh, wait! I forgot! Your father isn't really your father, is he? My mistake!" The Malfoy had a good guffaw over this as Chloe clenched her fists.

"Shut up! At least my father loves me and I love him back!" Chloe roared at the couple. They stopped laughing instantly. The couple looked at each other.

"Did you hear that, Pansy?" Draco asked her, pointing at her.

"She said that Aidan doesn't love us. That's rather harsh, Miss Potter," Pansy replied as if Chloe had burped and had not excused herself.

Chloe, having their attention, plowed on, "He just pities you two. He's ten times better than both of you together."

Draco cocked his head in pretend interest. "Really? Is that so?"

"You don't even understand what devotion is!"

The Malfoys again gazed into each other's faces in amusement. It was Pansy who replied, "Mudblood, it is you who doesn't understand devotion."

Draco grinned evilly and whispered, "Why don't we show you, hm?" Draco looked at the now suddenly covered Aidan on the table and called out, "Aidan?" He waved his hand at the body and said, "It's time to wake up."

Slowly, Aidan's upper body rose up to a sitting position, his eyes still rolled up into his head. For no reason at all, Aidan's clothes had returned. He was wearing the outfit he had been wearing when he and Chloe had gone out together that day. He lurched forward and back like a rickety car. His eyes rolled back into place like a doll's when it sits up. It sent chills down Chloe's spine.

"Aidan?" Draco asked very sweetly, as if to a young child, "do you love your father?"

The voice that came out of Aidan's throat was not the voice Chloe enjoyed on long walks. This voice had a ghost quality, lacking personality. His mouth and vocal chords were simply going through the motions. "Yes, Father."

Pansy stepped forward and requested, "Aidan, do you love your mother?"

"Yes, Mother."

Draco smiled and inquired, "Would you do anything for us?"

"Yes, anything."

Pansy nodded at his answer and continued, "Are you devoted to us?"

"Yes, completely."

Chloe was shaking with fright. This wasn't Aidan. This was just a reanimated corpse. Draco, however, requested, "Aidan, prove it. Kill the girl."

"Yes, I will," Aidan's mouth said. His eyes were still dull and glassy. The essence of Aidan was long gone. Aidan stiffly moved the sheet off himself and slid himself around so his legs dangled off the longer side.

"Please," Chloe choked off, retreating into a corner, "Aidan, it's me." 

Aidan's feet touched the floor and he swayed as he stood up. Step by step, he turned his body around to face Chloe in the corner. His neck barely held up his head, his hair that Aidan wanted to cut just hours before was crusted with specks of dried blood, his blood. The elder Malfoys were starting to cackle madly and squeal with delight. Aidan's face held no impression, no thought flittered through his brain. He was a puppet with invisible strings.

"Aidan, listen to me," Chloe begged, as Aidan stepped towards her at a snail's pace. "Aidan, it's Chloe." The living corpse reached into a pocket and took out a wand. He didn't have it during the day but that didn't matter now. The Malfoys laughed harder, euphoric. Tears came down Chloe's face. "Aidan! Please!" Aidan crawled forward, emotionless. 

Somewhere, far away, Meg's voice traveled down to Chloe's ears, "Chloe! Wake up!"

Chloe screamed up, "Meg! Help me! I'm down here!" The Malfoys cackled insanely. Aidan stumbled closer. He raised his wand slowly. He pointed the tip at Chloe's heart. Tears ran freely down Chloe's face. "Aidan! I'm Chloe! Don't give up now!"

Meg's voice called softly, "Chloe! Chloe!"

"I'm down here! Come quickly!" Chloe cried in anguish. 

Aidan was still approaching her. He began, "A-"

"Please!" Chloe begged.

"Va-"

It was faded but Chloe heard her father's voice calling, "Chloe! I'm here!"

"Daddy! Help me!"

"Da-"

"Aidan!"

"Ke-"

"Please! Don't do this!"

"Please wake up!" Her father's far-away voice pleaded.

"Da-"

"No, Aidan! Don't!"

"Vr…"

*** ***

Chloe bolted upright in her bed, punched madly at some object beside her, and jumped out of bed. She slammed her door open and practically jumped down the stairs. She crashed into some barrier and someone gripped her tightly.

"Let me go! Aidan needs my help!"

"Chloe!"

"Aidan's going to die! The Malfoys are going to use him again!"

"Chloe! Listen to me!" The captor shook Chloe lightly, forcing Chloe to look the someone in the face. It was a very weary Sirius Black. Chloe leapt out of his grasp and began, "Oh, Sirius! Aidan's going to die! We gotta help…"

"Aidan and the others are fine," Remus interrupted kindly, patting her on the shoulder.

A voice groaned from upstairs. "She broke my glasses!" Her father stumbled down the stairs in shock, holding the halved frame of his glasses. His nose was slightly bleeding as well.

"That was a great right hook!" Meg commented as she bounced down the stairs behind her uncle.

"Daddy!" Chloe ran over to hug her father as he used his wand to mend his glasses.

"I'm glad you're awake, Chloe," Harry replied as he placed the glasses back on, hugging her back.

"Your nose is bleeding," Meg said, pointing at his nose. Harry conjured up a tissue and held his nose.

"It's not much," Harry answered, "not broken or anything."

"Hey, Meg," Chloe greeted her cousin after leaving her father's embrace.

"Hi. I think you heard me because you started calling my name. You were calling for Uncle Harry too."

"Does your father know you're here?" Harry asked, brushing off his robes.

Before Meg could answer, the fire flared up and Percy Weasley stormed out, a very angry look on his face.

"This is where you were!" Percy raged, "Not a note or anything!"

"Dad!" Meg answered, "I had to look after Chloe!"

"She was asleep!"

"She could have woken up at any time!"

The others rolled their eyes. Harry, although he sometimes found the Percy/Meg fights entertaining, decided to end the argument early. "Meg, go home with your father. Thank you for staying with Chloe."

Meg pouted as Percy harshly pointed at the fireplace. Like a soldier about to be court marshaled, she dragged her feet towards the flames, called out her home, and disappeared. Percy nearly tore out his hair in frustration. "I just don't understand that girl! I never had this problem with the others! Completely unpredictable!"

"Good night, Uncle Percy," Chloe called as a hint for him to go home as well. 

"Go home, Percy. You'll manage somehow," Harry said in a comforting tone, trying not to laugh. Percy adjusted his robes with a dignified air and disappeared as well. Remus and Sirius also took their leave after Percy and left Harry and Chloe alone in the sitting room.

"I'm glad you're home, Daddy," Chloe replied in the silence after all the exits. "Is everyone really okay?"

"Everyone will be fine," Harry said then added reluctantly, "Although two girls got the Crucio but they should be fine."

Chloe didn't respond. Harry asked quietly, "Was it… was it the nightmare again?" 

"It started the same but… it ended completely different." Chloe told them about the nightmare she had in vivid detail. When she was done, Harry looked extremely upset.

"Aidan would never do that though!" Chloe protested. 

"I know that, Chloe," Harry answered half-heartedly. The image of Aidan's anger towards his father was still fresh in his mind. The question that the nightmare asked, whether or not Harry even loved Chloe and whether or not the Malfoys loved each other, caused a pang in his heart. He never really considered Draco loving his son. He wondered if what he would have done in Draco's place, if Chloe had rejected him as well.

"Daddy?" Chloe's voice cut in Harry's attention. He had been staring.

"I love you, Chloe," Harry replied, "don't forget that."

Chloe looked confused but answered, "I love you too."

"You should head to bed, Chloe. Are you still tired?" Chloe nodded and got up to leave. Harry remained seated. He heard her start up the stairs. He turned to face her. "Chloe?"

She stopped and looked back at him. "Yeah?"

"Chloe," Harry didn't know how to phrase this, "if I ever do something that hurts you, would you tell me?"

Chloe drew eyebrows together. "But you haven't done anything, Daddy."

"I know. But if I did, I want you tell me so. I want to be able to talk to you if you have problems, understand?"

Chloe blinked in surprise. "Did something happen?"

"No," Harry lied, "I was just thinking about it."

Chloe frowned in confusion before replying, "Okay. I'll do that. I'm going to bed now." Chloe continued up the stairs. Harry watched her go and heard her door close. 

"I love you, Chloe," Harry said into his lap.

To be continued… 

Author's Notes: Woo-hoo! Chloe's back in the story! Yes, I know the song _Flinch_ is really a love song about an ex but taken out of context, it does explain Chloe's relationship with her nightmares pretty well. 

Comments? Questions? Sick of me saying this every chapter (you bet I am)? Review or e-mail!

Please come again!


	10. Repentance Ignored

Scorched Earth Policy

By Terra

Chapter Nine: Repentance Ignored

"I am a man who has grown from a son/been crucified by enraged women/I am a son who was raised by such men/I'm often reminded of the fools I'm among"-Alanis Morisette, _a man_

*** ***

"Mr. Potter? Are you awake?"

Someone was tapping Harry on the shoulder. It was really annoying. He batted the finger away and rolled over on the floor. The crash jolted him awake. He realized that it was about ten o'clock in the morning and he was still in the same clothes as yesterday in the sitting room.

"Was I asleep?" Harry mumbled thickly, adjusting his glasses. 

"Like the dead," the intruder replied, offering a hand. Harry took it and he was pulled up to his feet. "Speaking of the dead, we need you to take care of a certain problem that might arise."

"What would that be?" Harry answered seriously then asked in alarm, "Malfoy didn't…?"

"Draco Malfoy isn't the problem. His former wife is."

"Former?"

"She's dead."

That sentence hung in the air as Harry absorbed this information. "How? Who killed her?"

The Auror shrugged. "Herself. Found hanging in her room early this morning."

"So what? Is she a zombie or a ghost or something? That's not my department."

"Oh, no. Not that. She's very dead. But her death may have repercussions."

"I don't understand." Harry frowned. The other Auror sighed as if this was obvious and didn't really want to take the unneeded time to explain.

"Most believe Draco Malfoy went mad because of the death of his father, Lucius Malfoy."

"So? You said Malfoy wasn't the problem."

"His son could cause a problem."

"How? Because Pansy's dead, Aidan will snap?"

The Auror nodded. Harry rolled his eyes. 

"That's completely ridiculous!"

"He has been under a lot of pressure. He may even blame himself. Or worse," the Auror suggested darkly, "the hospital for letting it happen. Our sources say that Aidan demanded to see her and they took their sweet time bringing him to her."

"So, you're saying he may lash out?" Harry answered.

"Malfoys have not been exactly stable in the recent years. We're finding evidence that Lucius was going nuts by the end as well."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"We need someone to serve as damage control," the Auror explained quickly as if Aidan was time bomb ready to go off any minute in the hospital. "We need to stop a disaster before it becomes one. You're the best man, we thought you should go."

"Fine," Harry agreed, "I have to get dressed and then I'll go." He turned to go upstairs but stopped. He turned around to ask, "Does anyone else know about this?"

The Auror looked sheepish. "Um… yes."

"Who?"

"The press."

Harry groaned. "Let me guess. It's today's front page?"

"The nurses tried to make them head back but then the whole Pansy thing happened. They smelled a story, there was nothing anyone could do. The hospital had to call security and everything."

"Was Skeeter there?"

The Auror nodded glumly. Harry swore violently. He dashed upstairs to change before anything more newsworthy could happen that day.

*** ***

"I don't care," the plump nurse said firmly to Harry Potter, "who you are. That boy needs rest! Go away!"

"Miss," Harry pleaded, "I'm not a reporter."

"I wouldn't let you pass even if you were the blinking Minister! Go away! Harass someone else!"

Harry was not having a good day. No nurse or doctor would gain him entrance to the wing where Aidan was being kept. This was the main nurse, the boss nurse one could say, his last hope. 

"Ma'am, I need to see him."

"And I need a backyard pool. We all have problems."

"Look, I'm not here to interview him. I'm not here to hurt him. I have orders to make sure he is okay."

"Well, he's not! Happy?"

Harry continued, "The Ministry sent me here to help him. I need to speak with him. I have orders to speak with Aidan Malfoy."

"Aren't you listening to me? You can't go in! Case closed. Go home."

Harry tugged at his hair. This was a nightmare. "Fine," Harry said calmly, "forget my orders. I want to see him because I care. I know what he has been through. I personally want to see if he is okay."

"No."

"Why not?!"

"The boy needs rest. He needs quiet."

Harry, in an act of desperation, got down on his hands and knees and begged, "I'm on my knees. Let me see him! He can send me away if he wants; let him decide. If he tells me to go, I'll leave."

The nurse appeared to consider his request as Harry lay prostrate on the floor. "That was an impressive performance, Mr. Potter."

"Thanks for the compliment. May I please see the patient now?"

The nurse sighed wearily. "You're not going to leave until I say so, are you?" Harry nodded on the ground. Nearby people were starting to giggle and whisper. Harry knew how completely stupid he looked. He was going to see Aidan even if the last thing he ever did. 

"Fine, you may see him. But if he says leave, you better be running out of that room or we'll call security and they'll break your arms in half, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered, getting up off the dusty floor. The nurse sped down the corridor not caring if she happened to lose her charge in the process. Luckily, Harry was pretty fast and also in shape so he stayed in step.

Finally, the race ended and the nurse opened the door to Aidan's room. Aidan had been moved to the Mental Ward and put under Suicide Watch for his safety. With a simple charm, the door unlocked. The nurse opened the door and poked her head in.

"There is a Mr. Harry Potter here to see you."

Aidan didn't reply. The nurse added, "If you want him to leave, just say so."

"It's fine," a dead voice answered. The nurse opened the door fully to lead Harry inside. The room was completely bare. Anything that could be a weapon was gone, the window was barred up, and the chair was bolted to the floor. Aidan was huddled on his bed, looking tired and ashen. Harry almost had to laugh; Aidan was in the exact sitting position that Draco sat in when Harry went to gather him from Raveneux. Must be the Malfoy "I hate my life" sitting position, Harry thought. Aidan didn't look up when they entered. The nurse continued quickly, "Well, when you want him to leave, just tell him so. If he's causing you a problem, you just press the Help crystal on the bedside table and security will dispose of him for you." The nurse gave Harry a dark look before exiting the room.

Harry didn't know where to begin. Aidan looked sick. The wind would topple him over. 

"So, how are you feeling?" Harry asked awkwardly. 

Aidan didn't look at him. "Fine," he answered weakly.

"You don't look fine."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because it was the only thing I could think of," Harry admitted. He walked over to Aidan's bed and sat next to him. Aidan didn't even twitch. There was a long silence then Aidan asked weakly, "Why are you here?"

Harry took a breath. "Well, first, I was ordered to come here."

"By the Aurors?"

"Yes, Aidan." Harry saw Aidan's fists clench.

"So? When am I expected to start seeing rats, Mr. Potter?" Aidan growled. "Or kill Muggles? Or kill you?"

"Aidan, no one thinks you're insane."

"Yeah! Not now! I'm fine now!" Aidan finally raised his head but looked straight ahead at some invisible accusers, quoting them, " 'Ooo, there's Aidan Malfoy, watch out for him.' 'Don't get too close! Malfoy's coming through!' 'Don't sit by him, Muggle-borns! He'll get you!' 'Just wait everyone, he'll grow up just like his dad!' Everyone is waiting for me to lose it! Everyone's double-guessing my moves! I hate this!" Aidan's head dropped again. 

Harry didn't know how to reply to all that. He felt a little guilty. He did just used to think of him as Malfoy's son. "No one thinks you're insane, Aidan."

"I'm so sick of doctors," Aidan whispered, close to tears, "I am so sick of hospitals."

"You're not in here forever, Aidan."

"But it feels that way. If it's not one nuthouse, I have to visit another." Aidan raised his head again but refused to look at Harry. "Do you know what's the worst part?"

"What?"

"Everyone here thinks I'm really upset over my mother's death. I mean, that's normal, right? People get sad when parents die, right?" Aidan got up to look out the window.

"Yes," Harry replied uncertainly. He had no idea where he was going with this. "That's perfectly normal."

Aidan shook his head. "I'm not sad. I always thought I would be. I thought I would be depressed. But I'm not upset at all! Am I evil? Is there something wrong with me?"

"Perhaps you're in shock?" Harry suggested, shrugging. Aidan was looking a touch hysterical.

"No, I was in shock last night," Aidan explained, pacing, "I'm just angry. I mean, I wanted her to get better. But she just refused! I've failed. I failed them both."

"Failed…?"

"My only goal, my only dream was for them to be okay. That's all I ever wanted. I wanted my family back. I never really had my family in the first place but I always thought…" Aidan choked, tears shining his eyes, "I always thought if I did everything I was supposed to, everything would fall into place. Mother would get better and Draco would be released. Ten years of my life. Ten years, wasted. I wasn't asking for much. Just two people. People I really cared about." Aidan looked at Harry finally, adding, "I'm not even sure if it was love. Maybe more like duty. My mother never wanted me. My father… Draco Malfoy… I don't even know what he wanted from me."

"Aidan… it was never your duty or responsibility to make your parents better. You were only a child. There was no way you could change anything."

Aidan didn't seem to be listening to Harry as he went on, "I'm being punished somehow. It's all because I rejected Draco last night. Now all my plans are going wrong just to spite me."

"Aidan, you're not being punished. You've done nothing wrong."

"I rejected my own family!"

"Aidan, the two events were not related. You haven't committed any crime. None of this is your fault." Harry stood up and took Aidan by the shoulders and gently set him by down on the bed. 

"I was their only hope," Aidan breathed in despair. "I just abandoned them."

"They never had any hope, not then and not now," Harry explained softly, "There was nothing that you could have done. It's time to save yourself, Aidan. Do you remember the trial?" Aidan nodded, looking at his clasped hands in his lap. Harry continued, "Remember how Professor Snape said his testimony that he believed that there was hope for you but not for your father? He was right. It's too late for your father. It was too late for your mother. But not for you, Aidan." Harry took Aidan's chin and raised it to he would look into his face. Aidan sniffled as lonely tears ran down his face. "You can start fresh. You can change the meaning of Malfoy. No one can stop you, not me, not your father, not even your mother. You were right last night, your father doesn't understand and he will never understand because he can't understand. I'm sorry that you had to face that reality last night. I'll admit it," Harry added honestly, "I also thought that you were just another Malfoy but now I see I was wrong. Maybe… maybe there was a time that your father and mother could have been saved but somehow, the chance passed them by."

"I wish…" Aidan choked out. 

Harry shook his head. "It won't come true. I'm not saying that to be mean. Years ago, you said your goal was to save your parents. I couldn't bear to say the truth back then but now I see that lying to you didn't make the realization any less painful."

"I wouldn't've believe you anyway," Aidan replied, wiping away his tears.

"No, I guess not. I strongly believe that there is hope for you, in spite of all this, regardless of what my colleagues think. You're stronger than your ancestors and you can get over this."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," Aidan answered, his eyes still red from tears but those tears were starting to lessen. 

The two men stared at each other in silence, besides the occasional sniffle and hiccup. Finally, Aidan stated, "I suppose that I should tell you why I returned to the Parkinson estate even after Draco put me under his spell."

Harry was surprised. "Wasn't it to buy time?"

"That is what I told the professor and Sirius Black but that wasn't my real reason." Aidan looked back at his lap in shame. "I wanted revenge."

"Revenge?"

"Draco always told me that no one crosses a Malfoy and gets away with it. I was very angry at him but I was more angry at the Parkinsons for kidnapping me and nearly deleting my memory."

"So, you poisoned them for revenge?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"Mr. Potter," Aidan scolded, looking up, "think about this for a second. If I went back to the Parkinsons, and convinced them I was on their side, I'd see everyone there without their masks. Everyone there was either my family or a close family friend."

Harry caught on to what Aidan was implying. "That would make you an excellent witness. You can name everyone involved in the kidnapping, couldn't you?" Aidan nodded solemnly. 

"My mother realized that. In her note, she said that the blood of my family is on my hands because if I give the information, I betray my family. I'm in a rather tight position."

"So," Harry remarked disappointed, "you're not going to say?"

Aidan sat Indian-style on the bed as Harry waited for an answer. He looked slightly less sick than before but he would have a way to go before a full emotional recovery. "Yes, I will tell you because they could have hurt the other children and me. What they did was wrong and justice must be served equally." Aidan tilted his head to the side. "Where should I begin?"

*** ***

After I convinced Professor Lupin and Sirius Black to let me have the herb I needed and return to the house, I ran to the front door. I knew that all of the group would exit through the back through the smaller, less used kitchen and I didn't want to run into Draco.

My plan was very simple. All I had to do was to convince the family that I had been put under the Imperious curse by the Ministry for the past ten years. Since I had been locked in the dungeon, the curse somehow broke. I managed to break myself out of my cell and came straight to the family I trusted for help. 

I entered through the front hall. The hall was massive but drab. Sorry, but Malfoys just like pretty things. We like _stuff_ but the Parkinsons do not go for objects to show off their wealth. The Parkinson family believes that wealth should just come out in the person themselves, that people walking by can just look and say, "My, that person has money." I guess the Malfoy family has never been that confident. We're a family of Nifflers in human bodies. I wasn't here to critique the home of my mother's family so I moved on. 

Another difference between the families is that the Parkinsons like crowds wherever they are. This meant that large families are widely encouraged. The more children a sibling produced, the better off he or she appears. My father's family, on the other hand, goes for the "quality, not quantity" way of thought. Too many children for the Malfoy clan means irresponsibility and lack of control. I have often heard rumors of past Malfoys smothering their excess infants in their cribs. Whether this was true, I have no idea, but it resulted in me having an unbalanced family tree. My father was an only child (although I have heard rumors that smothering was in practice to keep him that way) but my mother had a total of ten brothers and nine sisters, my mother being the second oldest after her oldest brother. Most of them are married and carrying on the Parkinson tradition of large families. I have an excellent memory for names and placing them to faces because of my large family.

I listened for conversation (and for the long line of children making their escape) to guide myself. The trick was to make everyone believe I had sought the family out for help. Someone up there was smiling on me because I was spotted by my Aunt Yetta. Yetta is a bleeding heart and dumb as a brick. She can believe any sob story you could come up with and I certainly had a gut-wrenching tear-jerker for her.

"Aunt Yetta!" I ran to her like a frightened children in the dark. She seemed surprised to see me. I ran to her skirt and clutched it in my fists. "Thank God I found you!"

"Aidan, what are you doing here?" she asked. 

"I was kidnapped!"

"Well, I knew that! Why are you not in the dungeon?"

I wailed, "Oh, Aunt Yetta! I've been through Hell! These past ten years have been torture for me!"

Yetta bent over to touch my shoulders in sympathy. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"The Ministry! They put me through all this!"

"What do you mean?"

"The Imperious, Yetta! I have been under that Imperious for the last ten years! It's been awful for me!"

Yetta pulled me close to her chest in concern. "But how? Why?"

"To make me serve the Mudbloods! I was never able to fight it until now! I'm so glad to be back!" I hugged her to demonstrate my supposed relief in "being back to normal". She rubbed my back soothingly. 

"You poor thing. I had no idea, none of us did. That Ministry is going to the dogs, isn't it? Putting a child through all this to serve their Muggle-loving desires. Sick, is what it is, simply sick."

I nodded weakly and hid my smile in her shoulder. Yetta pulled me away from her and I quickly wiped off my grin.

"I'll bring you to your uncle. He'll understand all this mess," Yetta told me with tears in her eyes. Her husband, which was who she was referring to, is my Uncle Esmond Parkinson, my third uncle. The only person he ever believes in the entire world is his wife, Yetta. He spoiled Yetta and their five children with all his heart. He was actually a loving man besides the fact that he takes great pleasure in torturing people. 

She took me by the hand like I was five years old but I had to pretend I was enjoying her presence so I didn't wrench my hand away from her fist. She babbled at me as we traveled through the multitude of hallways but I wasn't listening. I just nodded at the right places and that seemed enough for her. Finally, we ran into Uncle Esmond. He was furious when he saw me.

"Yetsie! What is Aidan doing with you? Didn't Patrick…?"

"Esie!" Yetsie and Esie are Yetta's and Esmond's pet names. Apparently, they find these names very cute and romantic. My parents thought it was revolting. "I just found him!"

"Well, put him back in the dungeon. We're not ready for the Memory Charm!"

"I _know_ that, Esie. I'm not a complete idiot!"

I highly disagreed but I sniffled to cover up my giggling. This brought attention back to me. Esmond continued, "Yetsie, darling, he has to go to the dungeon until we need him. Once the Memory Charm is performed, he'll be right as rain again."

"But he is right as rain! That's why I came to find you. It's simply awful what the Ministry did to him!"

Esmond seemed surprised. He looked at me and I put on my most pathetic face I could conjure up. He turned back to Yetta and asked, "The Ministry? What do they have to do with it?"

"Oh, it's terrible! They put him under the Imperious so he could serve all those Mudbloods at the Manor. Could you imagine it? Ten years under some official's control? Harry Potter must have ordered it, the bastard. It's not enough that he took away his father and home but his will?"

"I never liked that Harry Potter. I wouldn't let it pass, no sir."

"You should have gone into law, Esie, then this monstrosity would have never happened!"

"This is simply too much, Yetsie! We're lucky they didn't try the same trick with Pansy! My poor sister!" Esmond wept as he knelt down to grip me by the shoulders. "My poor nephew!"

I hugged my uncle and cried, "Oh, Uncle Esmond! I thought no one would believe me and I'd have all my memories wiped!"

Esmond rubbed (very hard) circles in my back, since he thought I was really crying, and said soothingly, "Don't worry, Aidan. You're with your family now. We won't hurt you with that painful procedure."

"Thank you, Uncle Esmond, Aunt Yetta," I sighed with fake tears running down my face, trying very hard not to giggle at them.

Esmond pulled me away reluctantly and gave me a glance. "You're simply filthy, Aidan!"

"Well, you did stick him in a dungeon after all. I'm sure that's not very clean," Yetta suggested, patting me on the shoulder. My stomach growled. They smiled. Esmond said, "You must be simply starving! Why don't you go to the main kitchen and clean yourself up a bit? Dinner is supposed to be soon. I'll explained everything to the family. You needn't worry about anything anymore."

"Thank you, Uncle Esmond," I replied in my most gracious voice I could muster before walking to the main kitchen.

The main kitchen was closer to the dining room and much cleaner and larger than the one in the back. I have no idea why the Parkinsons have two kitchens in that mansion. I never saw the other one used. I guess it's for special occasions. Regardless, the House Elves were madly dashing around me in their haste to prepare dinner. One saw me and offered me a chair in a squeaky voice, which I accepted. 

There was a silver platter on the cutting table were I was sitting. I regarded my reflection in the mirror. Esmond and Yetta were correct; I was flithy. My face was covered in dirt and grass. My hair was sticking out everywhere and dirt and grass were embedded in the strands. Once I saw the grime on me, I felt it everywhere. My hands were filthy as well. I dragged myself to the nearby sink and I washed myself with hand soap. I wet my hair down to make it appeared somewhat groomed. After several tiring minutes of ripping the dirt off me, I regarded the platter again and a clean, well-groomed face stared back. It was a shame I couldn't fix my clothes as well but I had no choice. 

The next plan on the agenda was to find a way for the asphodellia to sneak into the food but not in something I might end up eating. My stomach growled again and I hunched over in pain. I was starving. In my panic, I hadn't noticed but now I was a little safer and hunger could force my attention on it. I simply couldn't put it in the food; everything looked delicious in here and I'd probably end up eating everything presented. I then saw it: the wine bottles. Parkinsons like to drink; my mother obviously demonstrated that throughout her life. Wine is always served. I, being a Malfoy, can take or leave wine. I personally don't really like wine so I usually decline. 

"Excuse me?" I grabbed the nearest House Elf. "Are you serving those wine bottles?"

"Y-y-yes, y-y-y-young M-ma-ma-ster," the House Elf replied in fright. He hadn't even noticed me there. I had forgotten that House Elves don't like to be caught when they work.

"Sorry for bothering you like this," I added when I realized that I wasn't being very nice to him.

"No bother, young Master. Just fright, pure fright. Goober did not see young Master." Goober bowed repeatedly to show he really didn't mind my presence. Lacking time, I pressed on, "May I add something to the wine?"

"What thing to add, young Master?"

"An herb," I stammered, "good… for liver problems. Preventive herb."

"Oh, how kind! Such good for family! Goober open bottles for young Master." Goober quickly gathered all the bottles and brought them over to the cutting table. With a wave of his hand, the corks popped up and landed delicately beside the bottles they came from. There were five bottles of red wine. I took out the pouch and added a thimble sized amount of the paralyzing herb to each bottle. I swirled the bottles to make sure the substance dissolved without a speck. I had heard that the plant doesn't have any taste of its own so I wasn't worried that the wine would taste different. 

The next problem became apparent to me after I completed the task. I didn't know how I was to go about sealing the wine back up. I knew a Reparo spell would do the trick but I didn't have my wand with me.

"Um… Goober?"

"Yes, young Master?"

"Can you seal these back up?"

"Why, sir?"

"To make it look nice. It's a surprise. I don't want them to know I added the herb at all."

Goober's eyes went wide and he whistled softly. "Oh, young Master does great deed in private. Such noble strength of young Master. Goober never tell of deed of the young Master." I breathed a sigh of relief when Goober popped the corks back in and fixed the gold foil surrounding them. It looked like I had never been there.

Goober's help was not a moment too soon because Yetta breezed in. "There you are, Aidan!" She reached her arms out to embrace me. I stiffly entered the embrace. Yetta smiled. "All nice and groomed, aren't we now? Don't you feel better?"

"Of course, Aunt Yetta. Are we sitting down to dinner now?"

"Yes, my darling, we are. Do you want to change your clothes?"

"No, no point changing. I'll be heading to bed soon after dinner." That was my plan too. As soon as I had dinner, I would head to bed and wait for the plant to take its effect, this taking longer because it was mixed with another chemical, and when they were all immobilized, I'd run to the hospital after everyone else. 

Yetta led me into the dining hall where everyone was sitting. Everyone there, in the eyes of the law, was an accomplice to the kidnapping. I was sat at the left end of the table, directly across from my mother. She was scowling at me fiercely. I simply smiled and said, "How are you, Mother?" She didn't reply. Everyone around me expressed their utmost sympathy in my being under the curse and their delight at me finally breaking it. It was obvious to me that my mother knew it was a lie; that I was putting on an act. Her wits hadn't totally left her at the end.

On my side were all the men involved. There were twenty-nine men to my right: Patrick Parkinson, Voltimand Parkinson, Timon Parkinson, Aaron Parkinson, Joshua Parkinson, Esmond Parkinson, Baptista Parkinson, Caliban Parkinson, Cato Parkinson, Flavius Parkinson, Gallus Parkinson, Lennox Parkinson, Richard Parkinson, Acton Quade, Harrison Quade, Rawley Quade, Sahn Packer, Eamon Packer, Fabon Packer, Gaelin Packer, Flax Haden, Eero Esmo, Lalo Tabor, Zale Wade, Bain Cabot, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Bene Avery, and Elmon Mulciber.

Across from me to my mother's left, were all the women involved. There were twenty: Adoss Parkinson, Caipricia Parkinson, Basha Parkinson, Yetta Parkinson, Dahlia Parkinson, Galadriel Parkinson, Faline Parkinson, Vanna Parkinson, Welsa Quade, Alea Quade, Belle Quade, Calpurnia Packer, Emilia Haden, Helen Haden, Iris Esmo, Lucetta Tabor, Lavinia Wade, Margaret Cabot, Bianca Parkinson, and Katharina Parkinson. 

Did you get that all down? It's quite a lot to repeat.

Everyone was dressed in their usual finery and joking with each other. As far as I could tell, no food or water was being brought down to the dungeon. It was like there was no kidnapping at all, that I had just come for a friendly visit. I resisted the urge to scream and throw things. I put on my best public face but chatted very little, keeping my answers simple. 

Soon enough, the first course was brought out along with the first bottle of wine. I watched everyone around me filled their glasses with the drugged liquid while I declined the wine myself. "Only water, thank you."

"Only water?" Aunt Adoss asked, frowning.

"I'm not in the mood," I lied and added in my head, "to become paralyzed like you suckers." 

Dinner went smoothly and the food was delicious. I noticed that everyone kept glancing down at my mother whenever she took a drink as if they were waiting for her to keel over on the spot. I waited anxiously for dessert because once that was finished, it would be my cue to yawn hugely and asked for a spare bedroom.

The plates were carried away for the final time. Before I could stretch and yawn, my mother stood up. She opened her mouth, obviously to reveal my betrayal but she didn't get the chance. She toppled to the floor. 

I panicked. The herb wasn't supposed to take effect yet. I wanted to have a few minutes to get myself upstairs before they would realize what was going on. I leapt out of my seat. I would have to run in the confusion but first I still had to look like I was surprised.

"Mother, what's wrong?" I demanded. I glanced at my relatives and a chill settled in my stomach. No one moved. No woman was putting her hand to her mouth in surprise. No man was rushing to help my fallen mother. They were calm, expressionless. 

"I can't feel my legs!" my mother protested in fear. "I can't even wiggle my toes!"

"So it seems," Patrick said and then to me, "Sit down, Aidan." I sat slowly, bewildered.

"Will someone help me or should I lay on the dining room floor all night?" Pansy demanded angrily.

Adoss replied, "Well, you don't have to lay on the floor all night, Pansy."

"Well, I can't get up unless someone helps me!"

Yetta asked, "You can't feel your legs at all?"

"No, Yetta, I can't!" Pansy barked.

Aaron commented, "Stuff works faster than we thought, Patrick."

Esmond nodded. "Shame we have to do this at all, though." All were still seated in their chairs. 

"Shouldn't we help her?" I asked.

"No, it's too late to help your mother," Patrick explained, getting up. He went over to my mother. He said to her, "The asphodellia worked faster than it was supposed to so you have to forgive our unreadiness."

"Asphodellia?" My mother shrieked in alarm.

Welsa supplied, "You know, the paralyzing herb."

"I know what it is! Why did you put it in my drink?"

"On your cup, actually," Aaron corrected, "but it doesn't make a difference anyway."

"But why?"

Patrick looked at her coldly and explained without remorse, "Because you are a liability."

My mother's eyes went wide with shock. "Liability?"

"You're useless and more harm than good. You brought us Aidan, which was admirable, but beyond that, you have no purpose. We can't afford to have someone like you running around unchecked."

Calpurnia added softly, "You simply have to go."

"Go? Go where?"

"You know where, Pansy," Patrick growled. "And if we could, we'd make Draco Malfoy come with you." He turned to the rest of the family. "We must prepare."

Patrick took me by the hand and dragged me to another room in the mansion along with the rest of the men, leaving behind my screaming and howling mother. He took us to a cloakroom filled to the brim with dark robes that clearly meant Death Eaters. Everyone picked out his robe and pulled it over his head. Patrick quickly put his own robes as he said to me, "We don't have a robe ready for you. We didn't realize what had happened during those ten years. You'll just have to wear that."

"Um, explain to me what we are doing," I requested.

"Aidan, it should seem obvious. We are sacrificing your mother for the good of the Death Eater cause. She is toxic to our purpose and should be eliminated."

"Um… Uncle Patrick? Isn't Lord Voldemort dead?"

"So?"

"Wasn't he the leader?"

"Aidan," Patrick explained softly as if I had just received a slight blow to the head, putting a hand on my shoulder, "simply because our master is gone does not mean his message can not continue. The Death Eaters will continue in his stead."

I gulped. This was frightening. I liked Draco's psychotic fits better than this. "Don't tell we're going to _kill_ my mother."

"Aidan, we simply must. I know it's confusing right now. My first murder was confusing as well but you grow to understand."

"But it's my mother!"

"Aidan," Patrick snapped, appearing quite annoyed, "you'll understand when you're older. Right now, don't question my authority. Her sacrifice will benefit us all, that's all you need to know."

Patrick ushered me out of the room and everyone else followed. They didn't bother with the faceless masks. The women were also complete with their transformation. They queued up in two solid lines and went to gather my mother. She was still on the floor in the same position we had left her in. My uncle Richard lifted her body up and carrying her screaming and sobbing body ahead of us. 

As we marched through the halls, a little voice in my head told me that it was probably just that my mother died. My mother had offered me no love my entire life. For the past ten years, I had lived like an orphan. She had betrayed me and the residents of the Manor by giving permission for the Death Eaters to kidnap us. Besides, if it wasn't the Death Eaters, it would be the Ministry. 

We stopped in front of a large brass double door. Patrick muttered a secret password and the doors rumbled open. Inside was a large dome-shaped room filled with floating black candles, which flared to life once we stepped inside. There was a copper altar etched with arcane symbols of Dark Magic surrounding on each side a large Dark Mark in the circle. The top of the altar was clean and smooth and reflected the bright light of the candles and the menacing light in my family's eyes. The bricks were painted a dark red, which added an eerie gloom to the chamber. 

My mother wailed in the air as Richard made her float horizontal and laid her on the copper altar. Everyone went into a circle around my mother. Ropes leapt up from the base of the altar, grabbing her wrists, pulling them off the altar to press against the sides. Patrick put a hand on my shoulder to get my attention. I spun around to look at him. His face was partially covered in the hood of his robes but in his hands was a velvet bag. He pushed it towards me. I took the holder and knew exactly what it was. I opened the slipcase and held in my right hand a cursed knife.

It was almost hot to the touch. I had read about this kind of instrument in a book. The knife was enchanted to always remain sharp. Most than that, its real horror lay in the fact that the weapon did not just cut the victim, energy pressed against the wound, making the skin rip open and enlarge the hole. Some, and I'm sure this one as well, dissolved the surrounding skin as well. My mother was to have a very torturous death.

"Death Eaters," Patrick boomed, "in celebration for having Aidan Malfoy return to us, we will grant him permission to use this knife to kill his disgraceful mother. May she die slowly and painfully under his hand."

I wished I had been shocked or disgusted. I am now both, but I wasn't then. I bitterly angry at them all. I wanted them all to die. I truly wished them painful demises. I gripped the knife in my right fist and strode over to the altar where my mother lay crying.

"Aidan, please! I'm your mother!"

"I'm your son, Mother. You betrayed me."

"You're just like your father!"

"He betrayed me as well. If you give me a good reason to spare you, I will."

The Death Eaters around me chuckled. They probably thought I was teasing her. I was serious. If she had given me an excellent reason, I would have cut her free right there. My mother didn't reply, only sobbed. She knew that she had no redeeming qualities that could save her. She was doomed.

She would have died under my hands if Patrick hadn't groaned behind me. I whirled around. He collapsed and all around him, other relatives and Death Eaters were groaning and falling down as well. I had completely forgotten about my drugging of the wine. I laughed at them all. I dropped the knife and roared with laughter. 

Patrick demanded, "Why are you laughing?"

Yetta yelled, "Why can't I feel my legs?" Other chorused her question as they lay on the floor. 

I laughed harder, bent over from laughing so hard. My stomach was starting to hurt. "You're such fools! All of you!" I pointed a finger at the circle. "You all seriously believed that that silly lie about me being the Imperious! I thought you would never believe me and you all did!"

"You mean…" Yetta stammered.

"That's right! I knew exactly what I have been doing all these years! You seriously thought I was just going to let you do a Memory Charm on me without fighting back? I'm disgusted with this family! Disgusted! It makes me unbearable ill to know I come from just such blithering fools! I hate this family!" The Parkinsons gasped in surprise. I continued, "Your time is over! You hear me, over! You are all nothing! Nothing." My mother sobbed behind me. I felt a pang of guilt.

I walked over the crippled bodies on my door to the open door, without looking back. I ran to one of the playrooms and grabbed a brand-new Nimbus 2010. I mounted and zoomed out of the room, down the halls at a mad pace. I considered leaving my mother behind, to leave to her to die with the others. I realized that my mother was not to blame. She was my mother and had the right to be forgiven. I flew to the sacrificial room and cut the ropes binding her.

"We're getting out of here, Mother," I told her.

"I'm not going with you!" she screamed.

"Mother, I forgive you for what you've done. I want you to live." I picked her up and placed her on the broomstick. She screamed and pounded me with her fists as the others wailed and shouted at me. Those with wands shot hexes at me but I dodged them. 

I sped from the mansion, slamming open the front doors. Once outside, I listened for sounds of people escaping. I heard nothing.

"They've left," I said aloud.

"Who did?"

"The other children," I explained.

"They escaped?!"

"Yes, with the help of Mr. Potter and Father."

"Those two were here?! You evil…"

I ignored her and weighed my options. I didn't want to blindly go into the forest and get lost. I only knew one spell that would help and that would be a tracking spell. I sped back into the mansion and grabbed a sheet of parchment. Still on my broom, I used a quill to draw grid lines on it. Now I needed a possession. My heart sank. I had nothing of anyone in the group. 

When Draco had tricked me, he had mentioned me being of his blood. It gave me a marvelous idea but it was a Dark Arts spell to separate blood. I had no choice.

"Mother, give me your wand," I ordered, flying back outside.

"What? Why?"

"I need it. I know you have it!"

My mother reached into a hidden pocket in her ragged dress and pulled out her wand. I ripped it out of her hands and realized I needed to actually draw blood. I groaned and flew back inside to the kitchen.

The House Elves screamed in fright as I flew overhead. I stole a knife from the cupboard and cut myself on my left upper arm. I suppressed a scream as my blood spilled on to the grid lines.

I zoomed outside again. My mother was just sobbing now. I pointed my wand at the blood.

"Blood of father, blood of mother 

once apart, now joined together

Person of one, child of two

Separate again, become new

Separatio!"

The drop of blood rippled and then divided into two evenly divided drops. I pointed at the grip work and said, "Indagario!" The left droplet sped away from the right droplet. The right droplet remained still. I moved the broomstick forward and the right droplet moved forward. I sped towards the direction of the left droplet.

*** ***

"After a while in the forest," Harry concluded, "you encountered us." Aidan nodded, worn out from so much uninterrupted talking. Harry flexed his wrist to get rid of the cramp that had developed. He had completely used up the notepad in the room to take down Aidan's testimony. "Sign the bottom to verify that you gave this account." Aidan took the quill and quickly signed the little white space that was left on the pad. 

"Will I get expelled for using magic?"

"I believe that Section Something or Other says that if an emergency arose, it is permissible. We'll have to look into that because of the spell in question being a Dark Magic spell though. Do you understand?" Aidan nodded. "Aidan, do you still have those Dark Magic books?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are they still in your room?" Aidan nodded. "I'll have to take them now. I should have before but I never realized that you actually would use a spell in those books." Harry got up from the bed. Aidan sat by the barred window. The sky was a lovely bright blue without a cloud in the sky. 

Before exiting, he turned to Aidan, "Aidan?"

"Hm?"

"Stay well."

"I'll try, Mr. Potter." Aidan turned his face away from the window and gave him a tired but hopeful smile. Harry smiled back as he opened the door.

He stepped out of the room and Chloe slammed into him.

To be continued… 

Author's Notes: Once again, the quoted song inspired a scene. I always imagined that song playing during the sacrifice scene, so you can too if you want. In case you have forgotten, a Niffler is a small creature in Harry Potter land that likes shiny objects. Hagrid shows them to his class in Goblet of Fire. The left upper arm is where the Dark Mark is supposed to go. 

Comments? Questions? Just want me to shut up already? Review or e-mail!

Please come again!


	11. Just Talking

Scorched Earth Policy

By Terra

Chapter Ten: Just Talking

"If I look hard enough into the setting sun/my love will laugh with me before the morning comes"-Mick Jagger and Keith Ricards, _Paint It Black_

*** ***

Chloe looked unbearably furious. Clutched in her fist was undoubtedly that morning's _Daily Prophet_. Her mouth was a thin pink line and Harry could almost see steam coming out of her ears as the fire crackled behind her green eyes. 

"What are you doing here, Chlo?" Harry asked. 

"What are _you_ doing here, Daddy? Come to poke pins into the creature to see if it bleeds?" Chloe hissed. 

"Chlo, I was only talking to him."

"I'm so sure," Chloe barked sarcastically, "that's all you were doing. I'm not stupid."

"Chloe," Harry said sternly, "lower your voice." The door slammed behind him. Harry heard the lock click into place. Chloe ignored her father and banged on the door.

"Aidan!" she called, "It's me! Talk to me!"

Aidan did not respond. Chloe stopped banging and asked softly, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Aidan's voice answered. He sounded tired as if all he wanted to do was sleep.

"You don't sound fine. Open the door, please," Chloe pleaded. "I want to talk."

"I'm fine. Really."

"I can't let you sit in that room all by yourself," Chloe responded in a saddened voice.

"I have visitors, Chloe." Harry knew that was a lie and apparently so did Chloe.

"Yeah, reporters and the nurses won't let them in."

There was a slight chuckle. "You got me. Truly, I'm fine."

"Just let me in. We don't need to talk about what happened if you're not feeling up to it. We can discuss the summer assignments or play chess or something else. Whatever, I don't care." 

"I'm fine."

There was silence on both sides of the door. Aidan didn't add anything to his statement. This seemed to make Chloe angry.

"Aidan! Don't do this! Don't shut me out!" Chloe whammed her fist on the door. 

Harry took a placating hand on her shoulder. "Chlo, let's go home…"

Chloe slapped the hand away and growled, "I'm not leaving him." She continued to bang on the door. Harry was astonished. He had never seen Chloe act like this. 

"Chloe," Aidan's voice pleaded, "go home with your father. Go home."

"I'm not going home! Open this door!" Chloe was now using both of her fists to beat on the door.

"Chloe, stop it!" Aidan moaned.

"Open the door! I care about you! Let me help! I just want to talk!"

"Go home."

"Aidan! Open up!"

"Go home, Chloe. For goodness sake, go home."

Chloe ignored him. She rammed her fists on the door and begged violently to let her in and to let her help him. Aidan stopped his pleas and did not respond. Harry heard the stomping of many feet and realized that Aidan had pushed the security button. Harry did not desire Chloe to be the next issue's front page so he roughly grabbed her around the middle. She screamed at him and kicked madly in the air. Harry slung her over his shoulder with difficulty. The feet were coming closer. Harry voted against sending them home so he called out to Aidan that they were leaving and Apparated away.

*** ***

Chloe was still kicking and screaming when Harry arrived in Hogsmeade. Tears were streaming down her face in anguish.

"Chlo," Harry said softly, "we're no longer in St. Mungo's so please stop that." Chloe halted and looked around her. She blushed when she noticed that people were staring. She meekly waved her fingers at them. The people continued on their various routes with a variety of expressions. 

"You didn't send us home?" Chloe asked.

"I wanted to have a private discussion with you," Harry explained, putting her down. He massaged his shoulder, which he was sure was badly bruised. They walked to their favorite restaurant, where the Maitre, Jean, greeted them.

"Welcome, Monsieur, Mademoiselle. The usual table?" He asked. Harry nodded. Chloe was wiping the tears off her face and brushing up on her French with him.

"Il fait beau aujourd'hui, non?"

"Oui, Mademoiselle. Il fait très beau."

"Comment ça va?"

"Ça va bien! Et toi?"

Chloe did not answer this last question. Harry had only a vague idea of what they were discussing; he didn't know much French beyond "Bonjour", "Merci", "Monsieur", "Madame", "Mademoiselle", and "la toilette". Jean led them to a small table on the terrace with two chairs and a large umbrella shading them from the sun. He pulled out a chair for Chloe and she sat, saying, "Merci."

"De rien, Mademoiselle."

Harry pulled out his own chair and sat. Jean handed them both menus and scampered away to attend to other customers. They didn't speak to each other. Chloe stared pointedly at her menu, gripping it tightly. Harry had no clue where to begin and it was difficult talking to someone behind a sheet of laminated paper. 

Jean returned thankfully with two glasses of water and asked, "Are you ready to order? Something to drink?"

"I'm fine with the water, thanks," Harry answered, running his finger over the choices, "Um… I'll have some toast and jam.

"I'll have un jus de pomme…" Chloe started and whispered, "Is that right?"

"Oui, an apple juice." Jean nodded.

"Et… un croissant."

"Excellent choice. I'll be back soon!" Jean exclaimed, taking away the menus and walking off to deliver their requests to the kitchens. 

They left them alone again and Chloe didn't have a menu to block her from conversation.

"Your French is getting very good," Harry commented.

"Thank you, Daddy," Chloe replied coldly. She was obviously not thrilled to be here. "I wonder what Aidan is having for breakfast."

"Probably a large breakfast," Harry answered brightly. "They can't let him starve."

"I hope they don't give him marmalade."

"Why not?"

"Marmalade is orange."

Harry was confused. "Why would that matter?"

"Aidan hates the color orange. I could even dare to say he's afraid of it."

"He's afraid of the color orange?" Harry repeated in disbelief.

Chloe sighed. "When he saw Mr. Malfoy in prison, he was wearing a prison uniform, which is orange. Aidan told me that the sight was so unsettling for him that now the very color makes him feel ill." Chloe paused and mumbled into her chest, "Not that anyone cares."

Harry was about to joke that Aidan is obviously not a Chudley Cannons fan but he felt that this wasn't the time. Instead, he answered, "I didn't know."

"Barely anyone knows. I only found out because I had joked that Aidan would look good in an orange shirt I saw in a shop. He was shaking so badly afterwards. I thought he was about to puke." Chloe ran her index finger along the brim of the water glass.

"What an odd thing to fear," Harry couldn't help but say.

Chloe frowned angrily. "Yeah, but no one cares about what bothers him, do they? Probably shove the marmalade down his throat and lock him in a rabid Cannons' fan room just to make him suffer."

"Chlo," Harry answered soothingly, "they wouldn't do that. He can simply ask for something else."

Chloe slammed her palm on the table. "That's just it. He won't! He never complains or says how he really feels. You could stab him and he'd say he was perfectly happy! I couldn't live my life like that, Daddy, I don't see how he does it."

Chloe stopped her tirade because Jean was returning with her apple juice and their orders. Harry's slices of golden toast were thick and pre-buttered. Little stacks of jam packets were along the sides. Chloe's croissant was large and fluffy and she too had stacks of jam as well as some butter pats. They thanked him and he promised to return if they needed anything. Harry noticed that he had been given some orange marmalade. He set those aside, wondering what Aidan would have been thinking. He spread some raspberry jam on his first slice of toast as Chloe starting tearing chunks off her croissant and buttering them. 

They didn't speak as they ate the first morsels of their respective breakfasts. Finally, Harry spoke, "What would you prefer Aidan to do?"

"Speak up! He's always trying to please everyone," Chloe answered, tearing another chunk off fiercely. 

"Well, isn't that what you like about him?" Harry asked. "I mean, you wouldn't want him to be a terrible person, would you?"

"I don't mind that he's nice but sometimes he's nice to the point where his happiness suffers."

"What do you mean, Chlo?"

Chloe stopped ripping apart her defenseless breakfast and seemed to consider how to answer. At last, she explained sadly, "His parents don't deserve his love." Harry was taken aback but Chloe continued solemnly, "I know this sounds horrible but I'm glad that Mrs. Malfoy finally died. I'm terribly sorry for him because I knew how much he loved her but I saw that he was hurting him."

"Hurting him?" Images of flying bottles popped into Harry's mind.

"Not like beatings or anything, as far as I know. She was crippling him emotionally and mentally. He did everything to keep her happy but at what expense? His own happiness. Mr. Malfoy is the same. Aidan gives and gives and gives and gets nothing back." Chloe picked at her food again as she said, "I was thinking about my dream. I know this sounds like rubbish but I think the dream was telling me something."

"What?"

"In the dream, Aidan was drained of blood. He was a husk, a shell. I think it meant that the Malfoys were sucking him dry. Aidan has to get away from them. He can't go on like this forever or he'll lose his sanity. Does that sound weird?"

Harry shook his head and replied, "No."

"That's why I needed to talk to him," Chloe blurted out, "I want him to know that I'm sticking by him if no one else will. He needs help. He's so…" Chloe paused trying to find words and decided on, "alone."

"Banging on the door wasn't the way to show it," Harry scolded gently. 

"I had to. Aidan's like that," Chloe sighed. "When he's sad, he closes up and pushes everyone away. I think he believes that he'll be bothering us if he told us he was upset. I just think it's not fair that everyone else can scream and cry and throw things but he can't."

"Well, neither can we without reporters swooping down," Harry corrected. As he said this, he realized that the usual reporters were missing. He wondered, but then it occurred to him that all of them were sitting in the St. Mungo's waiting room, covering the Malfoy story. 

"Yeah, but they say 'oh, poor Potters' for us and 'oh, look, another Malfoy losing control' for him."

"Chlo, that's not true." As soon as Harry had said this, he immediately knew it was a lie. 

Chloe corrected him now by saying, "It wasn't until our third year that people in the Gryffindor House actually starting talking to him! It's insane!" She popped a hunk of bread in her mouth angrily. With her mouth full, she added, "Like he's got no feelings at all!" She swallowed and rambled on, "He's like an orphan. I mean, sure, his parents were both alive until recently but did they raise him? Nope. His daddy was in the hospital, his mum stayed in her room everyday, he basically raised himself." Chloe looked at her lap and added softly, "Everyone forgets that he was only five years old too. I was so lucky. I had you," Chloe listed, looking up again at Harry, smiling, "and my new mum and a little later James. You tucked me in and read me stories and answered any stupid question I ever wanted to ask. No one tucked Aidan in at night. No one read him stories. He had no one to go to when he had a question. It's not fair."

"Would you rather I let Mr. Malfoy go free?"

Chloe shook her head. 

"It was his choice to do it, you know."

"But it wasn't Aidan's! Why does he have to clean up everyone else's messes? Why can't he be a regular fifteen-year-old boy instead of acting like beaten down thirty-year-old man? He's just a kid, too."

"Are you saying you're a kid?" Harry joked.

"Yes, I am, Daddy, if it proves the point. Think about this for a second. Remember when you first took me in?"

"Yes," Harry replied, surprised at this turn in the conversation, "like it was yesterday."

"Why didn't you refuse to take me in?"

Harry was taken aback. "Why would I refuse?"

"Answer the question. Why did you accept? I could have been horrible and I was horrible, if you remember."

"You were confused and frightened."

"Daddy," Chloe said seriously, "I remember telling you I didn't like you and you said in response that you liked me. Why?"

"I don't know why I said that. I guess you reminded me of myself. I had longed for someone to take me away from the Dursleys when I was young."

"What would have happened if you had told the Dursleys 'no'?"

Dudley's voice echoed in his head. "The orphanage," Harry snarled.

"People always ask me why I became friends with Aidan," Chloe responded, "and that was why. I remembered the Dursleys, Daddy. That day is a fond memory of mine. I saw Aidan sitting alone, day after day. At first, I wanted to believe that it was okay to hate him but he looked so pathetic. I kept thinking of that day. What if you had refused? What would have happened to me? You gave me a chance, why didn't Aidan deserve one as well? So, I decided to become his friend because you had decided to become my father."

Harry didn't know what to say. How had he raised such a charming girl? Chloe was continuing, "You remember the night terrors?"

"Yes, quite vividly. Your screams would rattle the plates downstairs."

"The terrors, although you didn't know, lasted until my first year at Hogwarts. When I met Aidan and got to know him, the nightmares stopped."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Well, you simply outgrew them, didn't you?"

"No, I don't think so. I think my friendship with Aidan made the Malfoy family less frightening. Once I faced my fear, the terrors receded."

Chloe paused as if wondering whether to go on. Harry nibbled on his toast as Chloe considered speaking once more. Chloe ate some of her breakfast before saying, "Aidan is a wonderful friend. We understand each other. I guess I should tell you this." Chloe set aside her plate and Harry gave her his full attention. "When I was thirteen, I had a sort of identity crisis. Don't say anything," Chloe replied to Harry's open mouth, "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry or tell me I was being silly. Only Meg and Aidan knew about it. I was unsure about who I was. I mean, whether I like or not, Dudley Dursley was my father and I am Muggle-born. I'm not your natural child. I'm not a Potter."

"But that never mattered to me or anyone else!" Harry exclaimed. 

"It mattered to me. I wanted to know who I was. What if the Dursley part of me started taking over? Then it happened. It was during that zoo trip we took. Remember I asked if Aidan could come along? Well, Meg, Aidan, and I were buying ice cream at a vendor and I saw them."

"Who?" Harry asked. He was a little startled that his daughter had an identity crisis and never even spoke of it before. It never mattered, he repeated in his head.

"The Dursleys. Dudley, Gardenia, and Dudley, Jr. I recognized them right away. Of course, Meg and Aidan had no idea. Dudley, Jr. ran up and slammed into me on his way to the ice cream stall. Meg got upset and demanded that he apologize. He wouldn't, of course, and I just wanted to drop it and get out of there but Meg was firm."

"Did he eventually?"

"Well, I was so sensitive about the whole issue that tears were coming to my eyes while Meg yelled at Dudley, Jr. The Dursleys soon figured out that I was their daughter and became terrified and made him say sorry really quick, which he did and not sincerely. They gave me... this look and I just lost it. I cried right there."

"Chlo, it doesn't matter what the Dursleys think. They're stupid. They're not important."

"I know that but at that time, that's all that I cared about. I was sobbing and wailing and Meg didn't know what was going on but Aidan understood. I think he figured it out that it wasn't the pushing that was bothering me. He sat me down in the shade and made me eat the ice cream because it would make me feel better. I let it all out, I told them everything. Meg said what you said, that it didn't matter but Aidan knew what I was feeling."

"How?" Harry interrupted.

"The Malfoys, Daddy. They were terrible as well. He understood what it was like not liking your family's ways very much. He wanted to get away from the Malfoy name as much as I wanted to not be a Dursley. But we were what we were and we couldn't run away. Meg just said I was being mental and don't me to forget about the Dursleys but Aidan did something special."

"The poems?" It had clicked. He had wondered for a brief instant about those poems in the study but another collection had attracted his attention before he deeply considered it.

Chloe nodded. "He wanted to show that I was just Chloe and many parts came together to make me unique. It was his letters and poems that helped me out. I got over my crisis, realized that it truly didn't matter as long as I kept going." Chloe smiled at her father but her eyes were slightly sad as she added, "It wasn't until later that I realized that Aidan was speaking from experience. He has to fight his name and reputation every day. He's stronger than anyone would think." 

"He sounds like a very good friend," Harry replied. 

Chloe nodded and said, "That's why I hate how everyone treats him. Like he's some sort of creature that has to be eliminated. He's a good, thoughtful person but everyone just sees another Malfoy. If that were true, then I might as well go back to Privet Drive."

"Chlo, your case is slightly different."

"No, it's not, Daddy. The only difference I can see is that I managed to be able to hide my roots and Aidan couldn't." Chloe nibbled on her food as Harry digested this fact. Chloe swallowed the last of the meal while Harry played with his last piece of toast.

"Chloe, you said that the Malfoys didn't deserve his love," Harry restated. Chloe nodded. "Does it say in the _Prophet_ what Aidan did last night? What he and his father discussed?"

Chloe shook her head. "No, it just talks about Pansy being dead and Aidan fainting at the sight of her 'cold, still, lifeless corpse'. Why? What did they talk about?"

"Aidan rejected him."

Chloe's mouth fell open in shock. "Rejected him? What do you mean?"

"Aidan declared that he had no love for his father and that he was no longer his son. Then he stormed off." Harry stared at Chloe. She was in disbelief. He continued, "When I talked to him this morning, whenever he referred to his father, he didn't say 'Father'; he said, 'Draco', so I think he meant it."

"I never thought he would," Chloe interrupted in shock. "I can't believe it."

"I was there when it happened." Harry paused and remembered that morning's conversation, adding, "He told me that he believed that Pansy died because he rejected his father."

"He would say that," Chloe said, almost smirking. "Everything is his fault, it seems. It could rain now and somehow, he would believe he had caused it. He's that type of person." Chloe turned serious and replied softly, "It really is best, I think. We're stuck in this endless loop. Aidan and I have been trying to get away from what happened when we were five but the harder we try, the faster we end up back where we started. Even though Draco kidnapped me, it has affected his son. Aidan has been trying to move on and yet hold on to the past. It must have been maddening." Chloe paused, as something seemed to occur to her. "Daddy? Why did Aidan reject him? I don't think Aidan just suddenly stood up and starting screaming at him."

Harry considered not telling her but, he admitted, she had a right to know so he answered gently, "When we were in the Parkinson estate, Malfoy wanted to save his son so he used the Imperious on him to make him run."

"The Imperious?" Chloe demanded. "His own son?"

"Yes. Aidan tried to justify it, maybe to sooth himself, that Malfoy had meant the best. The seeds of anger had been sown so when Malfoy asked Aidan why he cared about the well being of his fellows… he lost it. I think it was the final straw."

Chloe did not answer. She drank her neglected juice in silence. She set the glass down again and asked, "Is that why you asked me to tell you if you ever hurt me?" Harry nodded. Chloe replied, "That must have taken all of Aidan's courage to do that. He loved his father and his mother, wholeheartedly. It's not right that the people he loved the most would even think about hurting him like that."

"I know," Harry whispered. Chloe was sniffling a little as her eyes glistened. "Do you need a tissue, Chlo?"

"I don't know why I'm crying. It was the best thing he could have ever done. Now he can work on getting better and finally moving on but…" Chloe rubbed her eyes as tears leaked out and traveled down her face. She choked out, "But I suddenly realized that was probably the most painful thing he will ever have to do in his entire life: just letting them go," Chloe stammered.

Harry got up and went to Chloe. She reached out and hugged him around the neck, sniffling and hiccuping. He shushed her and thanked his luck that no one was around to gawk. 

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," Chloe moaned, "I wasn't thinking and…"

"It's alright, I understand," Harry said, noticing Jean out of the corner of his eye. He waved at him to go away. Jean held up the bill and placed it on a nearby table. Harry nodded to show he understood that he would pay on that. Jean gave a sympathetic but confused look at Chloe before leaving the area. Chloe sounded better against his chest and she said, "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too, Chloe."

"I'm ready to go home now," Chloe whispered, looking up. Harry nodded. He glanced at the bill, left the payment and tip, and Apparated them both away.

To Be Continued…

Author's Notes: For you out there that don't know French, the conversation was this:

Chloe: It's beautiful today, no?

Jean: Yes, Miss. It is very beautiful.

Chloe: How are you? (literally: How is it going?)

Jean: I am good (literally: it is going good). And you?

"De rien" is "you're welcome" (literally: of nothing or "it's nothing".) 

If you lived in Québec, "bienvenue" (literally: welcome as in "Welcome to my home") is also used like "de rien" but in France, it would be very weird. Not that you would really care but I thought it was a neat fact.

And another thing, Chloe would be spelled Chloë in French. Not that you care about that either.

Nope, the song did not inspire this chapter. 

Questions? Comments? Howlers filled with corrosive pus? Review or e-mail!

Please come again!


	12. Through My Eyes

Scorched Earth Policy

By Terra

Chapter Eleven: Through My Eyes

"Deny thy father and refuse thy name!/Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,/And I'll no longer be a Capulet."-Juliet in Romeo and Juliet, in Act II, Scene II, lines 36-38.

*** ***

It had been three days, four hours, and fifteen minutes since Chloe had last spoken to Aidan through the door in St. Mungo's. Sixteen minutes now. Chloe was sitting on her bed, clutching Norbert, sitting cross-legged and feeling morose. 

When Chloe had first returned to Havenwood, her mother, Ginny, had been on her in a second, demanding where the hell she went without so much as a note. James had bounced around asking why she was blubbering, why she was holding the _Prophet_, could he read it, why did she fall asleep yesterday, and all sorts of questions. Her father explained calmly where she had gone and that they had both gone to breakfast to calm her down. She was thankful that he didn't add that she had acted like a total brat and security was nearly called to dispose of her. 

After that, James had received orders to leave her alone and her mother had tried comforting her but soon left her alone as well. Her father still came to see how she was doing but he kept these check-ups rare; he most likely remembered times when he wanted to be left alone and people just wouldn't hear of it. Therefore, she sat in her room mostly in cogitation.

When she first retired to her room, an owl had been perching outside her window. She had quickly opened it to let the bird inside. It had landed on her desk where she had quickly tore off the letter. She had immediately known the handwriting: Aidan. She had ripped it open but her heart had sunk when she had found that it was very short. It had only told her that he needed some time to think about everything and he needed to do it alone, by himself, without visitors. He had added that he would tell her when he was released and they would talk then. 

Chloe understood that. Five minutes with James' constant questioning had nearly driven her insane and she didn't even have a mother's suicide and a father's betrayal weighing on her mind. She didn't have to like it though. She wanted to help but she didn't know how. She laid on her back with a thump, her bed creaking. She hugged Norbert tighter. "Oh, Norbert, what are we going to about Aidan?" Chloe made Norbert shrug as she did likewise. She giggled. She couldn't believe she was asking her stuffed dragon for advice but it was comforting in a way. Norbert had always been there, listening to her secrets, being used to wipe off tears. Norbert was war-torn now, bearing scars of childhood. She remembered a time when she had accidentally ripped Norbert's head off. She had cried so hard, she had killed Norbert. Her father had told her that he was going to resurrect Norbert after she had ran to him, sobbing. He took the dragon to his office and five minutes later Norbert was as good as new. It wasn't until later that Chloe learned that necromancy was part of the Dark Arts. She had joked to him that he might as well turn himself in quietly.

"Stuffed dragons are different," he had joked back.

She looked at the beaten toy and hugged it again. "It used to be so simple. Everything I loved could be fixed in a heartbeat. But a hug and kiss won't cut it now, will it, Norbert?" She made Norbert shake his head sadly. 

Aidan was much more than a good friend. She loved him and as far as she could tell, he loved her back. No one knew, not even Meg. Occasionally, someone would joke about Aidan and Chloe dating and they would laugh, because they never realized that they were right. It reminded Chloe of the stories about how Uncle Ron would joke about something and months later, he'd been right.

*** ***

It started awkward. The feelings started in fourth year. There was always a flutter in her chest when she was around him. Since he was in Gryffindor, her heart did a fair share of fluttering. It was very odd as well. Most of the time, there was the faint flutter and nothing more when she was with him. Sometimes, out of nowhere, a light would hit his face or hair at the right angle, he would say something in a certain tone, his breath would brush across the correct spot, and she would lose it. Her heart would pound, her palms would sweat, her throat would tighten, and her eyes would just focus on him and her mind would be blank for a minute or so until she came back to her senses. One of these episodes happened in Potions and, with her mind lost in his eyes, dropped too much of the Whatsit herb into the cauldron of the Something potion and caused a huge explosion, which made everything it landed on a strange purple color. Her hand had been purple for a week. 

Chloe felt like she was going insane. She tried everything. She tried not thinking about Aidan. This failed since he was her friend after all. She tried avoiding him. Again, this failed for the same reason. She looked at other boys but they left her cold and her reactions to Aidan did not change. She even resorted to reading feminist poetry and novels, but this fell flat as well. Christmas rolled around and she returned home. She considered asking her female married relatives for advice. She wasn't sure whether it was hormones going berserk or true love. She considered asking her mother but her mother might tell her father and she didn't need that. She pondered asking Aunt Penelope but the thought gave her shudders so that was voted down too. She decided that Aunt Hermione was best because Uncle Ron and she had been best friends before becoming lovers.

When Chloe finally got her alone, she was grading papers. Chloe quickly shut the door behind her and asked if they could talk about something.

"Of course," she sighed, glaring at the tall stack of the seventh years' tests. 

"Um…" Chloe didn't know where to begin, now that she was in the room and had to speak up.

"Is it a problem about school?" Aunt Hermione suggested.

"No, it's a personal problem," she stammered. "Please, could you not tell anyone else about this?" Aunt Hermione nodded and told her to sit in the nearby chair. "See, it's really complex and I don't know what to do. I have… a crush on this guy."

"Okay," Aunt Hermione said slowly. She took out a note pad and began making a chart with two columns, labeled "pros" and "cons". "Continue."

"I like him a lot but I'm not sure if I really like him or it's hormones or something. Moreover, he's a friend of mine and I don't want to ruin the friendship. I'm not even sure he even likes me back." Aunt Hermione was scribbling on the pad. Under pros was "likes him" and under cons was "might be hormones", and "might ruin friendship". Chloe said, "There's more cons, Aunt Hermione."

"Is that it?" Aunt Hermione asked, astonished. "You have to give me more information than that."

"Well, I really wanted to ask you when you knew."

"Knew what?"

"That you loved Uncle Ron."

Aunt Hermione set her note pad down and leaned back into her chair. She whispered to herself, "When did I know I loved Ron?" Aunt Hermione shrugged. "To be honest, when I gave birth to Laura and I saw her in his arms. However, I don't recommend that, Chloe. I don't think your father would be pleased."

Chloe smiled. She wasn't that desperate. "When you guys started dating, you must have felt something more than friendship at the time. When did you start feeling that?"

Aunt Hermione groaned in her hands. "When did I know?" She looked up. "I better think of something though. Laura is going to be asking this in five years and I have to have an answer then."

"Exactly. I'm practice for you." Chloe was starting to get fidgety. What Aunt Hermione couldn't remember?

"Chloe," Aunt Hermione declared, "I think I may have the closest I can get to a good answer. During the summer after my fourth year, I was in contact with three people: your father, Viktor Krum, and your Uncle Ron. Of all the letters, I looked forward to your uncle's the most. In your case, I guess you will know when you look forward to his company the most. Does that help?" 

"Yeah, a little," Chloe sighed. "Who asked who out anyway?"

Aunt Hermione smiled. "He did." 

"How?"

"Like this." Aunt Hermione suddenly looked very nervous and starting wringing her hands. She did an impersonation of Uncle Ron as she said, "'Uh… Hermione… you know… you're a good friend of mine… and all that… Harry is too, of course but you're… uh… different… not a _bad_ different or anything… and uh… you're really nice and, uh smart… you're pretty too… wait, wait, wait, beautiful… and, um… yeah… so, if you're not busy… but if you are, it's okay and everything… no pressure or anything… we could take a walk around the grounds… or anywhere… or not even walk at all… anything you like… I'm sorry, this is stupid… sorry for bothering you… I'll just go back and yeah… forget everything… stupid idea…'"

"What did you say?" Chloe asked, chortling.

"'I'll be waiting by the lake at seven o'clock' and then he sort of squeaked something incomprehensible and ran out of the library. He came at seven, on the dot. The best part had to be your father."

"My father?"

"He was there, hiding behind the book shelves. Probably to see if your Uncle Ron would really ask me out. I was told later that they had written a speech so he would ask me just right."

"Some speech."

"That wasn't the speech. The speech they had labored over simply flew out of his head. Your father was a funny sight. He couldn't speak up so he was biting his fist, pulling out his hair, slapping his forehead, and mouthing angrily at him. When Ron finally ran out, Harry came out from behind the shelves and said, 'Ron crashed and burned'." Aunt Hermione laughed softly. "Better than 'let's get hitched'."

"At least it flows nicely," Chloe answered. She gulped and asked, "So, what about me?"

Aunt Hermione became serious. "It's really up to you now. Ron took a great risk, I could have been madly in love with Viktor for all he knew. Sometimes you have act because if you don't, you'll never know otherwise."

"Carpe diem?" Chloe asked.

"Exactly." 

After Aunt Hermione assured Chloe that she would get her mouth shut, Chloe felt slightly better until she had to go back to Hogwarts and do it all over again. 

It wasn't until March that she struggled up the courage to spill her guts. At first, she caught him in the library and was about to speak but then the sun came out from behind a cloud. Most unfortunate because Aidan was sitting right under a window at just the right angle for the sunbeam. Chloe was not about to be beaten by a sunbeam. She gripped her senses and asked if they could walk around the lake. Alone. Aidan, bewildered, agreed and they traveled to the grounds.

It was chilly and breezy. Now that Chloe had his attention, her mind drew a blank. How was she going to put this? They stood there, not looking at each other, shuffling their feet and stretching their arms. 

"Giant squid looks healthy," Aidan muttered.

"Yup. Healthy squid." Silence reigned again. Chloe's brain seemed to be having a jam, with "error" flashing across her eyes.

They both said at the same time, "I need to tell you something."

They giggled. Chloe suggested, "You first."

"No, you first," Aidan replied.

"No, seriously, you."

"No, really, you."

"No, go ahead. You first."

"No, ladies first. You go."

This exchange lasted about five minutes until Chloe screamed in frustration, "Aidan! Just say it!" Birds were startled out of the treetops in the next town.

Aidan looked taken aback, his eyes wide in shock. "Fine. I will go first." Aidan didn't continue, instead he stared at the lake as Chloe waited. "Huh," Aidan concluded, "all my education and lyrics and I don't know where to begin."

"I can't help you there."

"Well, first I wanted to say that I'm glad you invited me to come stare at the lake in silence with you for the past thirty minutes." Chloe giggled as Aidan smiled. "Second, I'm glad that you decided to become my friend."

Chloe shrugged. "I couldn't leave you all alone in the library forever." 

"You could have. But you didn't and that's what counts." Aidan was silent again. Chloe checked her hair for water beetles. 

"Is that all?" Chloe asked.

"Uh, no," Aidan answered awkwardly. His brain seemed to be having a jam as well. "You're… very special to me. You're so kind and thoughtful..." He trailed as if he was searching for words. Aidan turned his head to look away from the lake and at her. Chloe looked back into Aidan's eyes. Suddenly, as though she had known all along, she knew what he wanted to say.

"I love you, too, Aidan," Chloe breathed, cutting him off. He didn't need to voice it; his eyes had finished his speech for him. Aidan looked astonished and then filled his face with mock hurt, saying, "You could have let me finish, Chloe."

Chloe just hugged him and laughed. 

*** ***

Chloe hugged Norbert tighter. They had started dating behind people's backs after that. It was their secret. The love between them was their cakes under the loose floorboard while everyone else ate grapefruit quarters. It was precious yet so fragile; it was something that they were sure everyone wanted to smash. They decided to wait, wait for people to open their eyes and see that Aidan was Aidan and Draco was Draco, neither to be confused with the other.

The time never seemed to come for Aidan. Just when people were starting to open their eyes to mere slits, disaster struck and he was back to square one. Aidan would get better, Chloe promised herself, he come out the winner after all this. Draco Malfoy wasn't going to ruin Aidan's life anymore because he had finally gained the strength to shake his head and walk away. 

Aidan had grown up from that annoying, spoiled rotten five-year-old that was constantly on the verge of a tantrum. Chloe knew that. Aidan was not just "Draco's son". Aidan was poet, a pianist, and a painter. Aidan's best subjects were Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Aidan's worst subject was Potions. He hated the color orange but he adored green. He ran the Malfoy Manor without much assistance. He hand selected Christmas presents for each resident that had walked through those double doors in the past eight years. Aidan had a grand variety of likes, dislikes, skills, and handicaps which were ignored when under the title of "another Malfoy".

*** ***

If Harry had asked Chloe, he would have known that it had been three days, thirteen hours, and ten minutes since he had last spoken to Aidan Malfoy. He had promptly handed the boy's account to the Ministry when Chloe had finally retreated to her room. They had told him that he could now take the week off, if he so desired to, which he did. At the present, Harry was flipping through photo albums, lazily. This particular album was jokingly called by Sirius, "The Chloe Shrine."

"Yes," Sirius' voice boomed in his head, "Centuries from now, people will search ruins of the past. Among the ruins, they will find 'The Chloe Shrine'. They will conclude that their ancestors worshipped a child goddess named Chloe and made many icons of her visage. On special feast days, they did a tribal dance to Chloe, Goddess of Everything Cute and Adorable, and give the goddess offerings of freshly baked cookies to insure that her cuteness would reign o'er the land forever."

Photos of days gone by seemed to relax him, Harry observed. When he was at Hogwarts, the album of his parents usually provided a great deal of comfort to him. Now, he had albums of everyone he loved littered everywhere. The "Chloe Shrine" was a collection of pictures with Chloe as a main subject. There were so many because when she was younger, he got shutter happy. He supposed it came from the lack of childhood pictures of him as an infant, toddler, and primary school-aged boy. James had his own "shrine" as well but people usually made fun of Chloe's regardless. Harry thanked his lucky stars that no one had ever found the notebook full of funny sayings of Chloe and James as children. He'll show it on their wedding days, read it aloud with the Sonorous charm, while standing on a table. 

He grinned evilly at the thought of him reading Chloe's five-year-old thoughts on life. Chloe would absolutely kill him. 

He sighed and waved back at the picture of the seven-year-old Chloe and Meg waving happily, chocolate all over their faces. He never realized before how lucky he was: a nice house, a beautiful wife, and two lovely (if a bit dangerous) children. He had a job he liked and was good at. Most of his friends were alive and well. His enemies…

Harry sighed again. 

What about his enemies? Until now, he had just thought of Draco Malfoy as a cold, heartless maniac who was better off dead. Aidan was just his son who had the weird practice of being Chloe's "little friend". Pansy hadn't even been on the radar as far as Harry was concerned. 

He glanced again at the photos. Meg and Chloe were pointing excitedly at something beyond the frame and marveling at it. He looked closer at Chloe's chocolate covered face. What she had turned her back on him too? Harry had no idea what he would do if he lost her. He remembered the unending panic and craziness caused her kidnapping but that had not been her own will. If Chloe left him willingly, Harry would go mad. Same went for James. He tried imagining life without them; without their shiny happy faces; without their weird conversations; without seeing them waking up and going to bed; without their love. The mental image he got was bleak, reminding him vaguely of Sirius' description of Azkaban. 

His memory turned attention to the events after the safe return of the children. 

*** ***

Draco was still standing there, although all the children had been sent to bed. The spit had dried mostly on his face. He seemed very limp, like a rag doll placed on a doll stand. Harry went up to him and said softly, "It's time to go." Draco turned his eyes to him but did not seem to see him there, staring blankly without recognition. 

"Up, Remus," Sirius said to his dozing friend, poking him.

"Wha? Where am I?" Remus mumbled, dazed.

"St. Mungo's," Sirius explained. "We're going home now."

"Not just yet," Harry corrected, "we have to send him back first." Draco was now staring down the hall where Aidan had left through. Before Draco could think of running after his son, Harry pushed him towards the fireplace in the lobby, which sent all four back to Raveneux.

Doctor Lovejoy was waiting for them by the fireplace. Sirius nearly toppled on to her and her stiff back chair. She still had her clipboard with her and didn't even blink at their arrival. 

"Welcome back, Mr. Malfoy," she greeted brightly as Harry replaced the Bonding Bands on his wrists and ankles. 

"Hello, Doctor," Draco answered hollowly. He sounded dead.

"Were you of service?"

"Yes, Doctor," Draco replied in the same tone. She frowned in concern. 

"Are you tired, Mr. Malfoy?" She was scribbling on the parchment.

"Yes," Draco responded, "very tired. May I go back now?" The doctor frowned again, scribbling. 

"Well, a guard will return you the room. Since it's past eleven, it will be dark already. Your clothes will be disposed of in the morning." A burly guard came over at her gesture and Draco followed him to his room, out of sight. 

"He's not usually that compliant. Something's wrong here," Doctor Lovejoy whispered, "What happened?"

Harry explained the events that had occurred since Draco had joined him, ending with Aidan's rejection of Draco. The doctor scribbled this information down (probably to discuss with her patient later) and replied, "That's not good at all. And Aidan spat on him?"

"In his face," Sirius added. She scribbled. 

"Oh dear. I knew it would happen eventually but I didn't think it would be so extreme," The doctor muttered as she shook her head.

"You knew that Aidan would reject Malfoy?" Remus asked.

"Not _reject_ but more like give up. I knew that someday Aidan would be forced to face the reality of his father possibly never getting better and try to live his own life. I never thought it would be so soon. I was guessing his early adulthood, post-Hogwarts."

The doctor paused and looked through her notes before adding, "With this happening, I'm positive that Draco Malfoy will never leave this hospital."

"Why not?" Harry asked. 

"Mr. Black," the doctor asked, startling Sirius, "you've been in Azkaban, right?" He nodded. She continued, "Why do most people die there?"

He stammered, "They… lose the will to live. They stop eating and drinking water."

The doctor turned back to Harry. "Draco Malfoy has only been working with me for his son. Without that carrot, to use a phrase, he will lose his will to work with me towards recovery. What's the point of being released if his son hates him?" 

"So, everything he does he does it for his son?" Remus repeated. The doctor nodded. Remus added, "Aidan said that he did everything for his father."

The doctor appeared to be very sad. "Those two are very tragic, in my mind. Harry Potter, were you ever told about how Draco Malfoy was brought here?"

"No, I didn't ask. I was to worried about Chloe and other things."

She sighed. "I remember it like it was an hour ago. I was standing right here, my third year in this institution. I felt a tug on my coat and looked down. It was a little boy, five years old with a large, expensive-looking trunk. 'Are you Doctor Lovejoy?' he asked and I said, 'Yes, I am.' 

"He smiled and said, 'I want to see my father.' 

"'And who would he be?'

"'Draco Malfoy.' I was stunned. No one had told me that he had children. What could I say? I told him that I would take him to his father. I levitated the trunk since it seemed so very heavy for a little boy like him. He seemed upset. 'Those men scared me,' he told me, 'those Aurors were mean to Father and me. They took stuff.'"

"They searched the property, I knew that," Harry interrupted.

"I don't think Aidan understood their purpose. He was only five. I took him to Draco, who seemed startled. I told them that I would give Aidan ten minutes to say good bye. Aidan showed his father the trunk, which he identified as his old school trunk. 'Yes, Father,' Aidan said happily, 'I brought your things.'"

"His things?" Remus questioned.

"I think no one explained what Draco Malfoy's punishment meant to Aidan. Aidan had brought his cologne, his watches, his books, his clothes, and all sorts of personal belongings. 'You forgot,' he said, 'forgot all about this stuff in the searching and all. I remembered so I brought it.' It was terrible to watch. Draco tried to explain that he couldn't take his possessions with him but Aidan kept saying, 'These are yours, Father! I can't use them!' My superior came in at that point, Doctor Haggle, retired now. He doesn't do well with children so he was rather rough with Aidan, saying it was high time he left. Aidan wasn't listening, he was still going on about the belongings that Draco had 'forgotten'. He just didn't understand what was going on. Draco was, of course, telling him that he was going to break out so he didn't need his things at the present moment. Finally, I dragged him to my office as he yelled and cried and asked him if he knew why his father was in Raveneux. 'Because Harry Potter is mean and doesn't like him.'"

"Oh, yeah, it's all my fault," Harry mumbled.

"I told him that it wasn't all you, Mr. Potter," Doctor Lovejoy explained. "I told him that his father was very sick in his mind and needed help so he wouldn't do bad things anymore."

Aidan's voice echoed in Harry's brain, "My father is very sick."

"Of course," she continued, "he didn't think he had done anything wrong so I asked him if he would have liked Harry Potter to lock him up. He said no. I asked if his father would be upset if this had happened and he agreed that his father would be extremely upset and probably kill him, as in Harry Potter."

"Did he understand eventually?" Remus asked.

"Not that day. It took over a year for him to understand what I was talking about. He threw himself into his father's therapy after he got the point."

"He was going to save them," Harry responded, "he said that it was his goal."

The doctor sighed. "Yes, I'd believe that." The doctor shook her head and added, "Foolish goal though. Aidan was moving in a different direction than his father, it was too late."

"But…" Harry wondered, "what did Malfoy think of his son's goal?"

"Ah, that's where the tragedy comes in," Doctor Lovejoy replied sadly, "Draco, I have no doubt, loved his son with all his might. He could talk for hours if you let him about Aidan. Very proud of him, concerned about his mental health, he thought Aidan was the crazy one, but proud. I remember when Aidan was entering Hogwarts, Draco asked if he could go to the Platform, just to see him off. We said no. It broke his heart. He wanted to see his son so badly but we simply couldn't risk it. He became very uncooperative for awhile after that. This time…" she trailed off, looking forlorn. "I hate to say this but he won't be able to handle this."

"You mean," Sirius suggested with wide eyes, "he'll get worse now?"

"We thought he would completely mentally ill within three years of being here. Aidan, somehow, managed to keep Draco gripping on to sanity. Without Aidan's help, he's going to fall back very hard. From just I know now, in a year's time, he will be back at his status when he first arrived. From there, he will get worse." She paused and looked at the direction of Draco's cell and muttered to herself, "It is quite horrible what grief can do."

*** ***

Harry had never thought of it before. He had known that Draco had fathered Aidan but he never imagined any love behind that. Harry was suddenly reminded of the murderer who thought every plant was his dead daughter. Both vicious and maddening yet there was some love behind it. Somewhere in the grey matter, it all made perfect sense. 

Draco had been given a choice long ago and he made it. It cost him his freedom, his respect, and his son. Harry wondered if Draco was offered the same choices, would he do it all over in the same way? The sad aspect of the whole mess was Draco had caused all this heartache, created this rift between his son and himself. Harry was beginning to understand his side of it. Maybe Draco had tried to understand his son but he couldn't and maybe Aidan had tried to understand his father but he couldn't either. Did the paternal side of Draco long to understand, even if the insane part didn't? 

Maybe Harry was simply reading too much into his enemy's acts. He was probably up too late and his mind was getting foggy and sentimental from looking at too many photos. 

Before he could analyze the situation anymore, he fell asleep on the couch. 

To be continued… 

Author's Notes: We're getting near the end, folks! Only one more chapter to go! I just wanted to say that romantic scenes are not my forte. It took me forever to write the lake scene for Aidan and Chloe. 

Press the button. You know you want to! Review or e-mail. The choice is yours.

Please come again!


	13. Overlook This Supposed Crime

Scorched Earth Policy

By Terra

Chapter Twelve: Overlook This Supposed Crime

"And I will never see the sky the same way,/and I will learn to say good-bye to yesterday/and I will never cease to fly if held down,/and I will always reach too high cause I've seen,/cause I've seen, twilight"-Vanessa Carlton, _Twilight_

*** ***

Harry was once again standing in Potter Hall. The musicians were playing a cheerful waltz and everyone was spinning around and laughing. He seemed to standing by the food table in his dress robes. He examined them closer; they were the same ones he had worn when he had kissed Ginny during the Ball ten years before. He looked around him. Everyone was either too old or too young to be present. Ron and Hermione, for example, had the appearance of being ten years younger while a man and woman who looked suspiciously like Mortimer and Catherine Weasley looked ten years older than their usual seventeen and sixteen years old. Harry was thoroughly confused as he peered into a silver bowl and noticed he was the only one who was the proper age. 

"May I have this dance?" A feminine voice behind asked meekly. Harry sighed, expecting it to be Parvati Patil, and turned to face his speaker. However, he did not see the dark-skinned woman wearing a black dress with an all-too-dramatic slit.

"Mum?" Harry was astonished. Before him in a simple white robe was his mother, her red hair up into a bun with tendrils framing her face. "How are you here?"

"Is that a yes or no?"

"Uh, yes, of course." Lily Potter stepped forward and curtsied as her son shakily bowed. He took her right hand into his left as she placed her left on his shoulder. They began to step out on to the dance floor. 

"You seem upset, Harry," his mother said.

"No, I'm not upset. Just a bit surprised… you know, because usually you're dead and all."

"And usually you're a better dancer than this but we all have problems." Lily laughed, "Just go with it, love."

"Where's Dad?" Harry asked. 

"Couldn't come. It was hard enough getting the both of us here."

"Both of us? Who else…?"

Lily smiled. "Ah, I couldn't arrange this all by myself. I had help. Come, he's waiting for us." Lily broke away to just hold Harry by the hand and lend him towards the other end of the room. No one spoke or even noticed Harry and Lily cutting through the crowd. She led him to a wall of chairs that were completely empty except for one seat. Sitting alone on the chair was Neville Longbottom. 

Harry's heart stopped and he could feel his face going pale. Neville looked up at the pair.

Lily pushed her son into the seat next to Neville and told him, "I'm getting you a glass of punch. Neville? Anything?" Neville shook his head. Harry could see that Neville was wearing a similar white robe but his looked newer than Lily's robes. Harry was shaking from fear. This is it, he thought, he's going to take his revenge now.

"Hi, Harry!" Neville greeted with a smile.

"H-h-hi," Harry mumbled. 

Neville looked concerned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm so sorry!"

"Sorry?"

"I'm sorry I let you die! I'm sorry I fell in love with your widow, Ginny! I'm sorry I married her! I'm sorry that we had kids because it should have been you and not me…" Neville held up a hand to silence Harry.

"Harry, I died nearly twenty years ago. You married Ginny nine years after I died. It has been ten years since you married her. If I truly desired you unhappiness and wanted revenge, wouldn't I have done it already?"

Harry was flabbergasted. "But… but… the dream… right before the wedding…"

Neville's forehead furrowed, confused. Suddenly, he slapped his hand against his head and groaned, "Oh, that one! If I had known it was going to affect you so badly, I wouldn't've bothered."

"I don't understand."

Neville laughed weakly, clearly embarrassed. "I had a similar dream when I married Ginny, except I lifted the veil and actually kissed _you_."

"Me? What did I have to do with anything?"

"I felt bad about you not having anyone and having to fight the Dark Lord by yourself while everyone was having fun and starting their lives." Neville shrugged and added, "I thought it would be funny if I gave you payback for that dream I had. I thought you would laugh it off, being so brave after all."

"Neville, you were brave too," Harry corrected. 

"That's a matter of perceptive, Harry. It's your word against mine."

They sat in silence with lighter hearts. "So," Harry stated cautiously, "you're not mad."

"I gave my blessing a long time ago," Neville sighed wearily, "when Ginny first asked ten years ago."

"How? Like this, in a dream?"

"Remember you were walking through town and you suddenly thought of giving my grave some decoration? I put that idea in your head because Ginny was asking for a sign. Your arrival was a signal of my blessing."

"I never realized."

Neville grinned, almost evilly. "The dead have powers you would never believe."

"Punch." Lily had returned and thrust the cup into Harry's hands. "Have a nice chat?" She sat on the other side of Harry as he drank.

"He thought I was going to punish him," Neville complained.

"Silly," Lily scolded, teasing Harry's crazy hair, "silly, silly Harry."

"Well, you can understand why I might think so!" Harry defended.

"Neville might be slow, but not that slow. Twenty years of relative peace should have been a good hint. Drink your punch, love." Lily patted her son's shoulder as he sipped his drink.

"But what is this? I mean, Ron's too young, you two are alive, and Percy's children are all grown-up! What is this place?"

"It is a place where joining of the past, the present, and the future is necessary for comprehension," Lily explained. 

"That just made me more confused," Harry replied.

"You'll understand soon," Neville answered. Harry took the last sip of his cup and it magically disappeared but did not return filled like it was supposed to. "The main event is about to begin."

All around him, people were taking black blindfolds out of hidden pockets of their robes and Muggle gowns. Everyone, except Neville and Lily, was tying the silky folds over their eyes. Harry asked as his companions stood up, "Mum, Neville, what's going on?"

"Stand up. Come with us," Lily answered cryptically. Harry stood and she took his hand again, taking him past the blindfolded crowd to the other marbled wall. The three remained separate from the crowd. Lily dropped Harry's hand and looked towards a staircase to their right.

"Mum? What are we waiting for?" Neither Lily nor Neville responded. "Why is everyone blindfolded? Should I be?"

"No," Neville answered quickly. "You must see this with clear eyes."

The music slowly ended and faded away. The crowd condensed, leaving half the dance floor open. Harry stared at the strange crowd. They seemed bashful, humbled, as if they were expecting a reprimand. There was complete silence in the ballroom as everyone waited for something to happen.

From nowhere, piano music began to play. It was slow and majestic but filled with happiness and dreaming. The golden doors on the top of the right staircase opened and out stepped the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen. She seemed to glow by some mystical source inside her body as she surveyed the blindfolded crowd. She was wearing a silk wedding dress with a long trail like a milk river behind her. Her brown hair flowed in soft waves past her shoulders. She was wearing dazzling diamond jewelry but the emeralds in her eyes outshone any gem the earth could produce.

"Chloe," Harry breathed. She wasn't his little girl as he had first met her or how she appeared to him now but, like every other child he knew, had aged ten years to be twenty-five years old. "She's beautiful beyond words." The adult Chloe held her head high, absorbing the light that shone everywhere. The trail magically wound around her, becoming a detail in the skirt of her gown. Suddenly, the music intensified and a red carpet appeared on the stairs and she glided down them.

"Harry," Neville asked softly, "do you know the concept of guardian angels?"

"Yes," Harry replied, still not taking his eyes of his daughter, "they're people that watch over you."

"Right. When you are born, someone is assigned to watch over you as a guardian angel," Lily explained. "Can you guess who Chloe's guardian angel is?"

Harry looked at his mother and nearly fainted. "Is it… you?" She nodded. "That's why she has your eyes. It all makes sense!" He gasped. "But why is Neville here?"

"You'll see," Neville answered mysteriously, reminding Harry of Professor Trelawny during a Divination lecture. Chloe reached the marbled, polished floor and smiled with pure joy. She stood still as she waited. 

The crowd squirmed as if ashamed of themselves. Chloe took no notice and raised her eyes to the stairway to Harry's left, where the double doors were shut, over the heads of the crowd. The crowd split itself in two to provide a pathway from the stairs. The music continued but the doors remained shut.

"Is she being stood up?" Harry demanded. 

Neville shook his head sadly. "He has many great and terrible things that must be put to rest before he can enter. He will come, mind you, he will come." 

"What is this song?" Harry asked. 

"It is an ancient wedding song. In the traditional wizard wedding, long ago, this song, called 'Unification of Hearts', was usually played as the couple's first dance."

Lily nodded and added, "They played this at your father and my wedding. Some families choose not to do it but a fair number still do."

Suddenly, the doors slid open. People in the crowd turned their faces away in utmost shame as Aidan stepped out.

Aidan was wearing a black dress robe with silver lining, which deeply contrast his blond hair and pale skin. He was not only older than his usual fifteen years but this Aidan appeared much more at peace. His face shone with a light similar to Chloe's; a light of happiness and joy. He was smiling down at Chloe, who raised her arms as if she wanted him to run into her arms. He gently walked down the steps towards her, reaching out his left hand. 

When Aidan finally stepped on to the floor, he didn't seem to notice or care about the blindfolded crowd as he glided towards the glowing bride, who had let her arms fall slightly. Then it clicked in Harry's brain.

"Neville…" he stammered, "you can't… how…?"

"The world is full of coincidences, Harry. I have no idea how I managed to get my murderer's son but I knew what hardships he would undergo, and I stood by him. I whispered into his ear that change was necessary. He believed me." Neville laughed slightly, "Amazing. Through my death, I guided my murderer's son towards the light." Neville gestured towards Chloe, whom Aidan had finally reached in the center of the ballroom. 

As the music intensified, Aidan took Chloe's right hand into his left and placed his right hand on her hip as she placed her left on his shoulder. In unison, they waltzed, fitting together perfectly, glazing into each other's eyes. They twirled, dipped, slid, and almost floated in their own dreamland. The music was reaching a climax and suddenly the piano playing paused. With the sound of a soft breeze, a shower of white, red, and pink rose petals rained from the ceiling. Aidan and Chloe looked up in unison at the flowers drowning the hall. 

For the first time since Harry had first laid eyes on Aidan Malfoy, he heard him laugh with utmost delight. With a flourish, the music continued, more intense than before it had stopped. Chloe laughed along with him and Aidan scooped her in his arms, cradling her. He then spun them slowly around in the colorful shower as they both laughed like children as the petals continued without stop or any sign of letting up.

Harry noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and quickly turned his head to peer into the crowd. Someone was removing a blindfold: a young woman who appeared to be an older Meg. She angrily tossed the fabric to the side and ran out of the crowd, grinning once she was far away from her blindfold. She spun around happily in the fallen petals before scooped a huge handful of them, throwing them at the spinning oblivious couple and singing out, "Congratulations! Many happy years, forever and ever!" Soon, at first slowly then at a more rapid pace, other people were tossing aside their blindfolds, and scooping up petals, cheering, dancing around the couple, or simply staring at them with tears of joy running down their faces.

"Do you finally see what they all now see?" Lily asked her son, who was wiping stray tears away before he even knew what he was doing. "You don't have to like it but do you now understand?"

"I do," Harry said. "Will all this really happen?"

Neville shrugged. "Mostly. These events will all take time. It will be many years before people will accept this union. They will fight it and scorn it. Unless something dire happens, the resistance will fail and true love with resume its usual cycle, unheeded."

The music was starting to fade away as the conclusion was drawing nearer. Lily put her hand in her son's, raised it to her lips and kissed it. "Now, you must go home."

*** ***

Harry's eyes flew open. He was still on the couch in the sitting room, the photo book still open. Someone was playing the piano, Harry noticed. He turned his head towards the direction of the music and nearly jumped. At first, he thought it was Draco Malfoy but noticed that it was simply Aidan.

He was absentmindedly playing the baby grand piano next to the couch. The piece was sad and lonely. Aidan was staring blankly at the wall behind the piano as he played, not realizing that the man beside him was awake. Harry remained silent as he adjusted his glasses. Aidan had changed his clothes since he had last since him. He was wearing a red shirt with denim shorts. He still had his hospital bracelet on. At the further investigation, Aidan's fingers were covered in white paint. On top of the piano, to Harry's great surprised was Chloe's old stuffed dragon, Norbert. 

Curiosity overwhelmed him. "What's that you're playing?"

The keys banged loudly as they were struck as Aidan nearly leapt straight up in wide-eyed shock. He panted heavily and held his chest. Finally, he panted, "How long what you been staring at me?"

"Ten minutes, why?"

"You could've spoken sooner, Mr. Potter. Scared me half to death."

"I'm sorry. What were you playing?"

"The Lost Children," Aidan answered, still wide-eyed. 

"Oh, so that's what the piece actually sounds like."

"How did you… oh, right, the wands! Completely forgot." Aidan paused and asked, almost excited, "Did you like it?"

"It's very… sad." Harry nearly kicked himself for not finding a better word than 'sad'. 

"Yeah. I haven't played it in awhile. I'm surprised I still can play it," Aidan added weakly.

"Were you just released?" Harry asked, leaning back into the couch. He noticed that the page was different from last night. 

"Yes, this morning."

"May I ask why you're in my house at this time of day?"

"I didn't want to go back to the Manor just yet," Aidan answered softly.

"So, you decided here would be a good place?" Harry asked with an upturned eyebrow.

"I guess…" Aidan squirmed on the piano bench. "I wanted to speak to you as well."

"What about?" Harry stared at the ceiling. 

Aidan fidgeted. He idly pressed a few random keys as he searched for words. "There is something I have been meaning to say for awhile now. And… it's very important."

"I'm listening," Harry prompted. "Go on."

"I think it's time that I… you know, start living my life? And… it's very important that you understand where I'm coming from for this to work…"

"Are we talking about that blood spell you did?"

"No! No, not that. This is different, much different. Very personal as well." Aidan trailed off into a series of uh's and er's as he fiddled with his hands and hair. 

"Aidan, just say what you have to say," Harry said during a space in which Aidan made no sound whatsoever. 

Aidan took a deep breath as if he was about to bungee jump in a bottomless pit with ropes of poor quality. "I'vebeendatingyourdaughterandIloveher." Aidan immediately scooted back, away from Harry as his mind tried to decipher what the young man had said.

"Repeat that, please. Slower."

"It was hard enough the first time, Mr. Potter." Aidan cringed as Harry continued to glare.

"Repeat what you said. I had no clue what you were saying."

Aidan looked terrified. Maybe it was the after effect of the strange dream but Aidan looked a lot like Neville Longbottom as he repeated, slowly, "I have been dating Chloe and I love her."

Harry leaned forward and turned to press against the armrest. He rapped his fingers against it and asked, "How long?"

"Since March."

"That's five months, Aidan. How come Chloe hasn't mentioned it or at the very least, Meg?"

"No one knows. We've been going behind everyone's backs the entire time. It was safer that way. We knew no one would approve…" Aidan trailed off from fright.

No kidding, Harry thought, Forget what Neville and Mum said. I'm killing this kid right here and now!

"You don't understand!" A tiny voice in the back of his mind yelled.

"The hell if I don't!" Another tiny voice shouted back. 

"If you would shut up for five bloody seconds I could explain!" He had heard this before.

"There's nothing you can explain!" Why was this so familiar?

"I haven't slept with…" Yes, he remembered now.

"Yet!" He had been on the other end, hadn't he that time?

"Would you grow up?" Had he grown up since then?

"Come on… this charade isn't fooling me!" It had been real, not a lie.

"Fine! That's fine. But how's this little piece of information, you prat, I love her!" It wasn't any different.

"Now," his mother voice echoed in his head, cutting off the voices from his memory, "do you finally understand?" 

Yes, Harry thought back, I understand because I've already been there. I've walked this path before. He had to convince Ron that he was serious and it took a black eye for him to finally understand. If Harry refused him the chance, he was no better than everyone else was, who sneer at the name regardless of the body carrying it. Ginny had trusted him with good reason. Chloe should be no different.

Harry looked again at Aidan. Aidan was nearly off the bench from scooting farther and farther away. Harry realized that Aidan really needed some time to heal and, as Neville had put it, "put great and terrible things to rest". Harry smiled and answered the slightly trembling bundle of boyhood, "Alright. I'll forgive you two for lying to us since I understand that people could balk. I, however, won't because it's Chloe decision." Harry leaned in closer and made sure he had Aidan's undivided attention before adding darkly, "However, if you cause Chloe any amount of undeserved hurt, I will draw and quarter you. Slowly. With dull and rusty knives. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Aidan squeaked, "Very clear."

Harry smiled again and sank back into the couch and concluded, "I trust it will never come to that. As of now, I give permission to you two to continue as before."

Aidan uncoiled and scooted himself back in front of the piano. "Thank you, Mr. Potter."

"And Aidan? Thank you for your honesty."

"Thank you for understanding." Aidan began playing again, this time a happier tune. Aidan was singing the words softly as Harry stared at the ceiling. 

"Aidan!" Harry only moved his eyes to stare at the door. Chloe had just come down into the sitting room. 

"Chloe!" Aidan replied brightly. Chloe ran towards him with her arms outstretched. Aidan stopped playing and held his hands out. "Chloe! Stop there!" 

Too late. Chloe wrapped Aidan in a big hug as he was standing up to escape from the confines the piano and the bench. With his hands still on both objects as he fell, the keys banged out a horrible chord and the bench flipped over and landed on the excited Chloe's back. Aidan tried to kick her off him as she kissed his face a dozen times.

"I thought you'd never get out, Aidan! I was so worried! Sitting all alone!" Chloe wailed with happiness.

"Chloe! Get up! I can't breathe!" Aidan kicked frantically. Finally, he screamed out, "Your father is looking at us!"

Chloe jumped up to a standing position faster than Harry could blink. "Daddy!" Chloe greeted in a shaky voice. "Good morning!"

"I know about you two already," Harry explained, patting his daughter on the head. "Aidan and I have discussed it."

"Oh! Uh… so, is it okay?" Chloe asked, her eyes darting from her father to Aidan, who was struggling to gain his feet. Harry nodded. Chloe quickly changed the subject by looking at the piano. "Norbert!" 

"Well, I couldn't very well keep him forever, it's yours," Aidan answered.

"Why did Aidan have Norbert?" Harry asked, taking him off of the piano.

"I sent it to him to keep him company in the hospital," Chloe explained. "Norbert is a confessor, after all."

"It did help, actually," Aidan added with a shrug, "Nurses thought she was nuts though, sending a stuffed dragon to a fifteen-year-old boy by the owl-post."

"Why is he here?" James' voice asked with a yawn. 

"He came for breakfast, James," Harry answered. "Is your mother up?"

"Why did I hear the piano bang?" Ginny's voice called from upstairs.

"Aidan fell!" Chloe explained. 

"What is he…?"

"Having breakfast with us!" Chloe then nodded at Aidan and led him into the kitchen by the hand. Aidan still looked slightly dazed from the fall.

"James?" Harry beckoned his son to him and whispered, "Keep an eye on those two for me."

James shrugged. "Okay." With that, he yawned his way into the kitchen after them.

For a moment, he simply stood in the sitting room, his mind going back to the dream of the laughing Aidan and Chloe, all grown up. Aidan and Chloe had gone through many hardships and will probably face more. He sighed. They were growing up faster than he could measure.

From what he knew of those two children, he had no doubt that they would overcome the hardships and grow stronger.

Perhaps then they can laugh in that rose petal shower.

The End

Author's Notes: Yes, this is the end of my tale! Calling all Utena movie fans, the dance scene is based on the dance scene in the movie, with Utena and Anthy. If you want to understand how I imagine it, listen to the song that plays during that scene. Awww…

Now, for some explanations. Whenever I write a long fic, I like to explain some things. You don't realize how much I would pay to ask JK Rowling how her train of thought went from "Great, now the stupid train is delayed…" to "And they both grab the Goblet of Fire…"! I'm telling you all for free.

I read the fic "Lessons for Life" and deeply enjoyed but I felt that Aidan was sort of left hanging. I wondered what would become of him in the future. At first, I brushed off the idea of writing a fic because Caitlyn said she was already writing one. I then had a plot bunny that tortured me greatly. My friend Naisumi told me that some people did write fics of fics so I could simply ask Caitlyn. 

I wrote the prologue in a week. I then sent it to her. Those were anxious two days while I waited for a reply. Caitlyn said she liked it and told me I could continue.

Every spare moment, I wrote this out. It took me from the end of May to the middle of July. 

The title "Scorched Earth Policy" has probably left you confused. A couple of months before I read "Lessons", I was on the Speech and Debate team. I do Oratorical Interpretation, which is an event where you recite a speech someone has already written. During one round, someone read Stalin's speech about scorched earth policy. The quote at the beginning of the fic comes from that speech. The term "scorched earth" means that an army destroys everything in its path. I found Stalin's case rather odd because the Soviet people had to destroy Soviet crops and equipment to prevent the invading Germans from winning. "To win, he had to destroy his own land." Fast forward to my plot bunny. Aidan, in case you missed it, rejects his entire family. Why does Aidan do this? To save himself. In order for Aidan to survive, he has to destroy his connections. Thus, the title is "Scorched Earth Policy".

Now, I can hear some of you screaming, "You're a Draco sympathizer! DIE!" I'm not. Yes, Harry reflects on Draco but he doesn't like him; he understands him. The theme behind this fic is really where the line between good and evil is. How evil is evil and how good is good? I tried to show how there are shades of grey in the world. Draco does very "evil" and terrrible acts in this fic but he does them for good reasons. He kills his mother because he believes she's in pain. He puts Aidan under the Imperious because he loves him. Harry, also, does some shady acts. My friend, Naisumi, when reading the scene where Draco's wand is snapped, cried out, "Harry is being really cruel! Draco was not doing anything wrong!" However, when I asked Caitlyn if my Harry was cruel, she responded, "Your Harry is fine." See? It's all on how you look at it. Neither of them is wrong. Neither is right either. Even the love between Chloe and Aidan could be considered wrong, because their fathers are enemies. I tried to show how everyone is human and no one wakes up one morning and says, "Ah, yes, another day! I'll think I'll do something devilishly evil!" In everyone's mind, they are the hero and everyone else is the villain.

Oh, if you want my opinion of Draco, I think he's going to turn Death Eater or at least be neutral. I don't see him joining the side of good. He proves me wrong, I'm not going to complain.

Now, my version of Aidan was unsurprising inspired by, you guessed it, a song. "A Thousand Miles" by Vanessa Carlton gave me the image of Aidan. I realized that if Draco was locked up, he couldn't see him whenever he wanted and how time would pass them by. The love between Chloe and Aidan was inspired by "Hands Clean" by Alanis Morisette. I don't know why I thought Chloe and Aidan should get together but I knew that if they did, people would object. The albums "Be Not Nobody" by Vanessa Carlton and "Under Rug Swept" by Alanis Morisette could be Aidan's books of poetry, they fit him so well. You should buy them anyway, they are both great albums.

For all you otaku: As I was writing, I noticed that my version of Chloe and Aidan act suspiciously like Sana and Hayama from "Kodacha: Sana's Stage" manga. Am I just being weird? In case you're wondering, Chloe and Aidan in Caitlyn's sequel act like Sakura and Li from "Cardcaptor Sakura" manga. Both manga you should read if you haven't already. 

Now, for some thanks. 

A big, special thank you goes to Caitlyn, who let me use her story line and characters. Not only that, she helped me out with minor details that she had changed in "Lessons" during the re-writes. Make sure to read her sequel (since mine is not the "official" sequel) "Letters from Home" when it gets posted. (Update: The sequel "Letters From Home" is now up. It is very good. I highly recommend it.)

Thank you goes to Naisumi, who told me that I can write fics of fics if I want to. She, a rabid Draco-lover, still read my stuff, even though her biggest peeve is InsaneandEvil!Draco. Of course, she cried for Draco, even when she wasn't supposed to. Yes, Naisumi, Aidan is a boy's name! She is a great author. If you can't stomach slash or Good!Draco, read her marvelous fic "Sacred Underworld" which is about Ron and has no relationships in it.

Thank you goes to my brother, Paul Corrigan, for showing me where the computer lab was and let me stay there during my visit to Michigan. Although, it was quite embarrassing in there because I started tearing up when I was writing some parts and people were around. When I told him I was writing this fic and told him the title, he joked, "'I love the smell of napalm in the morning!' said Harry." He doesn't write Harry Potter but all you otaku will enjoy his fics about Eva and KareKano. I recommend them all, they are just wonderful. 

Of course, I thank you all for reading! In case you wondered why I don't thank reviewers by name is because I post all my chapters at once upon completion everyone gets to read the final product during their first reading. So, as far as I am concerned, no one has reviewed! But you still can and I'll still reply back. I'll be glad to hear what you all thought!

Hope you read my other works that are currently in progress! Bye for now!

Terra

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